Sarah Versus the Farm
by Angus MacNab
Summary: Sarah Walker has been sent to rural central California to investigate the theft of the Intersect. How is she going to weather life on the farm with crop duster pilot, Charles Bartowski? Now "ace's Charles" has a whole new meaning.
1. Things are Seldom What They Appear

**A/N **6/24/12 – Here is something AU for you, and this Chuck story is going to be a little different. What if Chuck wasn't a city boy? And what if he had a less than common job? How are the Intersect and his protectors going to deal with life on the farm? How are they going to cope with his real job? Read on to find out...

**I don't own Chuck.**

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**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 1 – Things are Seldom What They Appear **

Sarah Walker drove her Porsche 911 Carrera 4S Cabriolet down a two-lane county road a mile west of Wasco, California. It was a typical spring afternoon early in the month of May. Such a beautiful day to be driving with the top down and she was enjoying the sights and scents of the southern San Joaquin valley, the sun on her face, and the wind in her hair. As she drove she looked at the myriad of crops growing along the highway. Almond orchards, orange groves, grapes, cotton, and produce of every kind lined the sides of the road. Then her eye caught a very vivid splash of color off to her right and she pulled over to gawk at a large field filled with roses of every color imaginable. S_o this is where they grow them,_ she thought, as she watched several workers tending the field and cutting the long stem buds from a section of particularly striking red roses not far from the road. One of the field workers wearing a white large brimmed hat noticed her sitting there in her car as he was clipping buds from a bush. She watched him smile and wave at her, and then he looked back to the bush and appeared to be studying it carefully for a few seconds before he clipped a flower and started walking toward her as he trimmed some leaves and broke off the thorns from the stem.

The middle aged Hispanic man walked up to the passenger door and held the rose out to her as he smiled cordially, "Buenos dias, senorita. A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman."

Slightly taken aback Sarah blushed a bit, "Gracias, amable señor," she said looking into his friendly eyes as she accepted the rose and put it to her nose to take in its heavenly aroma, "Oh, my, that smells wonderful!"

"If you say so," he grinned. "After a couple of hours in the field this doesn't smell them very well anymore," he said tapping the side of his nose with a laugh.

Sarah laughed back with him, "Yes, I'll bet this could overwhelm one's senses in a very short time." She looked at the large splash of color in front of her, "Those fields are very pretty. It must be nice working in such a picturesque setting every day."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps I've grown a bit too used to them, but I never tire of the pretty women they attract," he said with a toothy smile. "Please pardon me young lady, but I'm on the clock and I must get back to work, I hope you enjoy this fine spring day." He waved and started to turn to walk back into the field.

"Wait," said Sarah as she saw an opportunity to maybe get some information, "Maybe you can help me. I'm trying to find Flying B Aviation. It's run by a Charles Bartowski. Do you know him or where that is?"

The man turned back to her and fixed a curious gaze on her, "You mean Chuck? Yes, almost everyone around here knows, Chuck." And then he said almost under his breath, "Santa Madre de Dios. Chuck, eres un hombre muy afortunado." *

Sarah's grin grew very large and her eyes sparkled a bit as she bit her lower lip.

"So you speak Spanish?" The field worker inquired, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sorry, that was very rude of me. Please accept my apology."

"It's okay, I'm very flattered. Do you know Chuck well?"

"Yes, very well. My son works for him. Chuck has been very generous to Juan and our entire family." The man's eyes narrowed a bit as if he suddenly thought of something, "You don't work for the Ag Commissioner or the FAA do you?"

Sarah let out a short laugh, "No. No need to worry, I don't work for the government. I'm an acquaintance of his and the friend of a mutual friend of his from the Academy," she effortlessly lied.

"Ah," he said as he regarded her car, "I wasn't really that concerned about who you work for, it's just, well…it's nothing. Are you a fighter pilot?"

_It's nothing? Hmm_, "No, I used to work in public relations, but I'm out now. Chuck's office is up there a couple miles on the left at the county airport, isn't it?" She pointed up the road.

"Yes, but you won't find him there right now, because he's out working." He pointed down the road, "That is him right there." His finger followed a barely visible yellow airplane crossing very low over the road a few miles up ahead. "When you see him, tell him Jesus says hello, and that I'm a very jealous man. I'm sorry miss…?"

"Walker, Sarah Walker. It's nice to meet you Jesus…?"

"Terrazas, Jesus Terrazas. I'm sorry Ms. Walker, I really must be getting back to work, and I'm setting a bad example for my crew. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe, Jesus. It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your day."

"You too, Ms. Walker." Jesus waved and walked back into the field concluding that the stunningly attractive young woman must be single since she didn't correct the way he addressed her. _Yes. Holy Mother of God. Chuck Bartowski, you are a very lucky man.*_

Sarah waved back at Jesus with a smile as she pulled back onto the road and watched the airplane he had pointed out flying back and forth. She picked up the rose he had given her to smell it again and her smile became blissful. When she had been told where she was going when the Director gave her this assignment she had dreaded the idea of coming to the farming country of the southern San Joaquin Valley thinking this would be a very dreary place. But a very nice man working in a rose field had quickly dispelled that attitude. Mr. Terrazas' kind demeanor and statements about Charles 'Chuck' Bartowski were making her wonder about this person who was her mark.

As she drove up the road she watched the plane Jesus had pointed out make a graceful arcing turn about three hundred feet in the air and then dive back toward the ground crossing the road again ahead of her as it flew _under _some ten kilovolt high tension power lines on seventy foot metal poles along the edge of the field next to the road. Her eyes grew wide as she watched it go under the wires and the spray boom under the wing came on precisely right at the edge of the crop as the plane continued across the field, its wheels only a few feet over the rows, spraying some sort of green liquid as it went. A long puff of smoke came from the plane as it reached the far end of the field and the spray stopped an instant before the large low winged yellow plane with a blue stripe down its side pulled up to about a hundred feet and made a crisp forty-five degree turn to the left and rolled level as it crossed over the top of an orchard and a couple of seconds later pulled up into another smooth arcing 225 degree turn to the right before diving once again onto the field.

She watched the plane cross the field again from the corner of her eye and realized she was going to cross his path only a few seconds before he crossed the road on which she was driving east bound and looking in her rear view mirror watched the airplane flash by a couple of hundred feet behind her as he again crossed under the power lines at the edge of the field. Sarah pulled her car over about a quarter of a mile down the road and watched as the process repeated itself several more times. Then she saw another identical plane taking off from a canal embankment road about a half mile away on the eastern edge of the field she was parked next to. She pulled out her Canon camera with a 600-millimeter L series lens like so many sports photographers used these days and looked at what appeared to be a ground support vehicle parked along the embankment road. After taking a few pictures of the crop duster crossing under the power lines she put her camera down and drove toward the ground support truck after making a left turn onto an adjoining road. Just as she pulled her car to a stop along the side of the road across the canal from the truck she noticed the plane she had been watching earlier approaching from the north in a turn only a hundred feet or so over the ground and settle onto a low final approach to land on the canal bank road.

The airplane's wheels touched lightly on the narrow gravel road and Sarah could hear a low whining roar as the aircrafts propeller shifted into beta thrust and the plane quickly slowed as it approached a slightly wider spot where the support vehicle was parked and then pivoted around on one wheel with the wing tip only a couple of feet away from the truck as the turbine engine and propeller spun down to an idle. She watched as the pilot lowered the door on the cockpit, flipped up his helmet visor, grinned, and gave a thumbs up to a short bearded fellow wearing blue jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a cowboy hat, who was standing next to the support truck. The pilot made a hand signal to one of the two other crew members and one of the young Hispanic men ran out to the plane with a hose and attached it to a coupling below the cockpit at the wing root. The other crew member was busy pouring green powder from bags into a stainless steel mixing tank on the side of the truck.

The pilot pulled his helmet off and hung it on a hook behind his seat on the cockpit wall, ran his hands through his brown curly locks, and then looked right at Sarah Walker and gave her a big toothy grin as he waved before he hauled his tall lanky frame from the airplane and jumped to the ground from the wing. Walking over to the bearded man, Sarah watched as the man she assumed was Chuck Bartowski exchanged comments with his colleague and them slapped him on the shoulder and laughed about something she could only guess at. Sarah hauled her camera back out and examined the man through the viewfinder. Yes, it was him. The face matched the picture Director Graham had given her. She snapped a photo, and then she watched as Chuck Bartowski walked up to one of his crewmembers and spoke to him with his arm around the young mans shoulder. And then the young man ran to the truck to attach another hose to the plane not far from where the first hose had been attached.

After taking a brief look at a clipboard lying on the hood of the truck Chuck Bartowski climbed back into the plane and took a long pull from a bottle of water before clasping the four-point restraint harness. Sarah watched through the long camera lens as he grabbed his helmet and pulled a bright yellow cloth skullcap from his helmet and slipped it onto his head. The image jiggled in the viewfinder as she laughed, realizing the skullcap was covered with the printed character of Jay Jay the Jet Plane. He pulled his helmet back on and looked down into the cockpit, made some keystrokes on one of the panel mounted keypads, then looked out at his ground crew and drew his hand across his throat with a slashing motion. The crewman disconnected the hoses and pulled them away as Chuck pulled the cockpit door up and latched it. Chuck Bartowski then looked over at her again and smartly saluted Sarah as he tapped the smoker button on the stick sending billowing smoke from one of the exhaust stacks of the turbine engine as it spooled up to takeoff power and he released the brakes. Sarah watched the sprayplane gently lift off and climb out to spray yet another load of whatever that green stuff was. Looking across the canal she saw Morgan Grimes smiling at her as he tipped his hat.

-II-

Chuck looked straight at the beautiful blonde woman sitting in the Porsche across the canal from him and gave her a crisp salute along with the Bartowski smile as he advanced the throttle on the PT6-45 turbine engine and then toggled the smoker for a couple of seconds before releasing the brakes. As he lifted off the canal road he thought about how he had been tempted to talk to the woman, but how being able to do it would have required swimming across the canal. _Damn, you fool, you should have done it. It would have been worth it._

He flipped the audio panel to the business band radio and keyed the push-to-talk switch on the stick, "One to base, Morgan?"

"Yeah, go ahead Chuck," replied Morgan after a few seconds had passed.

"Is Vicki Vale still there?"

Morgan laughed as he keyed the mic, "Nope, so sorry fearless leader, but Vicki has left the party."

"Damn, I should have swum the canal to talk to her. I hope she didn't think I sprayed her car or something."

"She didn't look pissed to me, Chuck. She mostly looked curious. You should have seen the look on her face when you put on that goofy Jay Jay skullcap. She almost dropped that expensive camera."

"Okay, so now she knows I have an immature juvenile side to me, I think I'll just spend the rest of this load trying to decide if that's a good thing, or a bad thing."

"Stay focused, buddy, lots of obstacles around that field," said Morgan with a warning tone to his voice.

"I hear ya, Morg," replied Chuck, "only one more load to finish this melon patch. Oh, I forgot to ask because of the huge distraction at the loading pad, how's Kyle doin' on the onions?"

Morgan took a brief look at the loading sheet, "He has one more load, too, Chuckles, so you guys will be racing back for the last few beers in the fridge."

"Sounds like the start of a horse race to me," quipped Chuck.

"I heard that, Chuck," said the voice of Kyle Pruitt over the radio, "I just finished my fourth pass, good luck catching up."

Chuck laughed to himself as he pulled the Air Tractor 502 onto his line on the GPS lightbar and dropped into the field to continue spraying the young melon field with copper sulfate fungicide. He pushed the 'money handle' forward as he crossed the point in the field where his last load had run dry and looked ahead to the wires he had been ducking under for the last hour checking for traffic again on the road as he approached them. And there was the Porsche again parked about two hundred feet from his line next to the road. He toggled the smoker again to check the wind as he flashed under the wires and gave his audience two more quick puffs as he pulled up into his turn for the next pass. Part of him wished the pretty woman would just leave because he really didn't need the distraction working around these wires, but another part of him relished the opportunity to really show his stuff and it made him concentrate even more on the job. Yet another part of him wished he wasn't in this plane so he could have a chance to actually talk to her. He came around on his turn and the car was gone. He looked to his left and watched it drive west bound up the road before he realized he had a set of wires right in front of him and just barely ducked under them to continue his work. He suddenly heard his father's voice talking sternly to him, _"Pay attention, Charles, this is serious business. Leave your emotions on the ground if you're going to do this work."_

-III-

Sarah Walker pulled into the entrance of the Wasco airport and drove onto the ramp. She looked off to her right and saw a large yellow airplane like the one she had watched Chuck Bartowski flying parked in the tiedowns just beyond a double-wide manufactured home surrounded by mulberry trees shading a wooden deck around it. Two canvas and wood swingchairs and a porch swing hung from the branches of the trees overhead. A sign in front of the steps leading to the deck said 'Flying B Aviation'. The 'B' had stylized wings coming off the sides of it. Sarah parked her car by the side of the deck and walked up to the door of the offices. The office doors were locked and she peered into them from a sliding arcadia door off the deck looking at four desks and computer workstations arranged around a central office area with a couple of couches and recliner chairs. The office had a 'lived in' appearance and one of the desks was piled high with paperwork. The kitchen counter was covered with a fairly large collection of Red Bull cans.

Sarah casually looked around the quiet airport as she pulled out her lock pick set and had the office door open in a matter of seconds. Stepping into the office and closing the door behind her she moved quickly to one of the work stations, inserted a thumbdrive into the USB port, and executed a program to review the files on the hard drive. She repeated the process on the other two workstations and then started to search through the desk drawers searching for anything that would link Charles Bartowski to the theft of the Intersect files and the marks previous association with Bryce Larkin. After several minutes of searching, all she saw was various aerial application business paperwork, computer game disk cases and gaming notes, and two desk drawers filled with comic books.

As she searched the office a speaker on one of the desks burst to life and she jumped slightly, "Wasco traffic, Air Tractor two charlie bravo two miles east landing Wasco, Wasco traffic."

Sarah moved to one of the desks and checked her scanner app.

"Wasco traffic, Air Tractor niner romeo bravo two miles east landing Wasco. See the smoke, Chuck? Passing you off your right wing."

"Got you Kyle, the first beer is yours, I'll fall in behind you."

"Hey, Chuck, there's a Porsche parked out in front of the office," said Kyle as he turned a low base-to-final over the almond trees for runway 12.

Chuck quickly dipped a wing and looked at the Porsche 911 parked next to the end of the deck. "Well I'll be danged, our day just became even more interesting," he exclaimed over the radio.

Sarah smiled as she listened to the exchange over the radio and moved rapidly from desk to desk checking the status of her hard drive searches and then moved to the arcadia door to look out and see the two sprayplanes overhead and heading in to land. She quickly terminated the programs and removed her thumbdrives, then slipped out the office door onto the deck just in time to see the first plane touch down with a small puff of smoke from the tires on the asphalt runway. As she reached the end of the deck and leaned on the rail the second plane rolled onto the runway in a near perfect wheel landing not far behind the first one and the two aircraft taxied in together towards the tiedown area north of the office. She watched as they pulled into the tiedowns like choreographed dancers and the engines spooled down together to an idle as the props feathered and the pilots busied themselves with cockpit chores while they waited for the engine temperatures to stabilize before shutdown.

Then she noticed a very large and burly man walking from a large hangar to the south of the office toward the planes with a pair of longneck bottles in his hand. _Damn, how did I miss him? _She asked herself as the man walked past her and tipped one of the bottles at her and winked.

Both the engines shut down almost simultaneously as if on cue and the cockpit doors dropped. The burly gentleman waved the beer bottles at them as the pilots climbed from the planes. "Hey Mac," yelled Kyle from the wing of his plane. "The air conditioner on this sucker _still _doesn't work! I hope you get it fixed before it really gets hot around here!"

Mac McConnelly rolled his eyes and threw Kyle one of the beers as he walked up to the plane, "Quit yer yammerin'. You pampered kids and your creature comforts, maybe you should try spending your day in a cramped AgCat cockpit with no A/C for twelve hours," he retorted, "At least I brought you a beer you spoiled brat!"

Kyle chuckled and shot him a sideways glance, "Only because you knew the damn air conditioner wasn't going to work, you old coot." He tipped the bottle at Mac, "Thanks!"

"How'd it go for you guys today?" Mac asked Chuck as he stepped down from the wing of the Air Tractor 502, "Did anything important break?"

Chuck grinned back as he accepted the beer and took a long pull from it, "Ah, that's _good," _he said, holding the cold bottle briefly to his forehead. "Nothing wrong with my baby," he said patting the fuselage next to the cockpit, "She's running like a charm, Mac. We had a good day." Then Chuck looked over Mac's shoulder and watched awestruck as a slender absolutely stunningly gorgeous blond headed woman in tight blue jeans, brown leather jacket and boots sauntered up to them. He was completely transfixed on her piercing blue eyes. It was Vicki Vale, and Chucks tongue was uncharacteristically tied in a knot in his throat.

"Hello," said Sarah cordially to the men looking agape at her as she walked up, "Is one of you gentleman Charles Bartowski?"

Chuck and Mac exchanged brief wary looks and Chuck turned back still speechless, "meep….er, I'm Charles. Please call me Chuck…and this is my mechanic Mac McConnelly." Mac just stared glassy eyed at the woman.

Chuck was searching for something else to say and Sarah was opening her mouth to speak when Kyle Pruitt stepped around the tail of Chuck's plane and laughed looking at the expression on Chuck's face as he gaped at Sarah Walker, "C'mon, Chuck, get it together, it's only been three years, target rich environment, buddy," he teased as he walked toward the office waving his beer bottle. "And snap out of it Mac, you look like a dope!"

Chuck shot Kyle a look reserved for extremely smart-ass friends, "Thanks, butthead, some wingman you are."

"Hey dude," he retorted over his shoulder as he walked away, "Count your blessings I'm not hitting on her, I need to get to a restroom _quick_." He did a little two-step shuffle to make his point. "I'll see you in the morning, Chuck!"

Chuck stared at the back of his friend and chief pilot as he walked away and his attention shot back to Sarah as she cleared her throat with an amused look on her face. "I am so sorry, that was extremely rude of us," he said apologetically handing his beer to his mechanic, who stared at the bottle shoved unceremoniously against his chest, "Is there something I can help you with? I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

Sarah let out a short laugh, "That's because your wingman didn't give me chance to say it. It's Sarah Walker." She held out her hand, "Nice to meet you, Chuck."

Chuck shook her hand surprised by the firmness of her grip and a tingle went up his arm as his eyes shot to hers with mild surprise and he realized as they made contact that he saw surprise mildly written in her eyes as well. After a brief awkward moment they both released their grips of each other's hand.

"I'm going to go have a look at your _wingman's_ air conditioner, although I really don't know why," said Mac, seeing the need to give his boss some room, "Nice to meet you Ms. Walker," he added with a casual tip of his company ball cap as he walked toward Kyle's plane.

After an awkward few seconds more Chuck spoke, "Sarah. That's a very pretty name," he said, fidgeting a bit as he drank in her beauty.

"Thank you, Chuck," she said, and then added playfully, "I didn't think people still named their kids Chuck." Sarah smiled and tilted her head a bit and quickly appraised the man in front of her. He was tall and lanky with captivating hazel brown eyes and wild curly brown locks from having just taken off his flight helmet. And he had a smile that was almost as bright as the sun; it was intensely disarming. His defined musculature showed well through the long sleeve t-shirt he was wearing, and his Wrangler blue jeans fit him like…well…they fit him very well. How did that saying go? Wrangler butts drive me nuts?

"Yeah, well my parents were sadists," he answered with a grin, as he looked shyly down at his feet. "So," said Chuck as he kicked a pebble with his cowboy boot before he looked back up and held her gaze, "What brings you to God's country, Sarah Walker?"

"I'm looking for work, Chuck. I have an interview with a large agricultural conglomerate tomorrow morning. I just thought I'd drive around a bit today and get the lay of the land beforehand."

"So you work in agriculture. What exactly do you do? It seems agribusiness grows a new facet every day, so I'm not going to venture to guess what your job is."

"Well, I don't really work in agriculture per say, I'm a corporate pilot. My interview tomorrow is for the left seat of a Gulfstream IV."

"Oh, is that so?" Chuck flashed the Bartowski smile at her, "Well that explains a lot. We've been trying to figure out why you found us so interesting today."

"We?" _Wow. That smile is amazing._

"Yeah, the whole crew. You caused quite a stir on our little corner of the farm when you showed up next to the crew support rig today. So, are you interested in ag aviation?"

"Yes, it's a fascinating business. The flying certainly looks fun, real flying, not babysitting a flight management system and only doing a few hops a week."

"Well, we get to do more takeoffs and landings, that's for sure, and we get to fly _low_ and enjoy the scenery," he said with that infectious grin, "However, we don't get to see the world the way you corporate drivers do. _But_, we don't have to spend too many nights in cheap hotels or sleep in an airport pilot lounge very often, either." Then he scowled a bit and rubbed the back of his neck, "Though, I have been spending the last few nights sleeping in the office bunkroom. It's been busier than fraking hell lately. Oops, sorry about that. Please pardon my language, that was uncalled for."

She snickered internally at his outmoded sense of propriety, but _'fraking?', _that was a new one. "That's alright, Chuck. Busier than hell, huh, as in no rest for the wicked?" She grinned at him.

"Ha! You'll only find angels in my operation…fallen angels." He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "Why exactly were you looking for me by name anyway?"

"Well, I was told you might be looking for a pilot too. I didn't think it could hurt to check all the possibilities." She smiled as Chuck's eyebrows shot up and his eyes got big.

"Well that's a surprise. Do you know that out of the three thousand or so pilots in the United States doing this job only three or four of them are women? Don't get me wrong, it's not like we're trying to keep women out of the business. It's just that we're very top heavy with seriously type 'A' males. My chief pilot is an outstanding example, as you probably noticed," he added with a soft chuckle.

"Is there room for a seriously type 'A' female?" Sarah asked with a cryptic smile.

His head tilted a little to one side and a crooked tight-lipped smile grew on his face, but he didn't say anything. Instead he turned and yelled at his mechanic, "Hey, Mac! Will you make sure these birds are tied down and check the turbine oil levels for me?"

His mechanic pulled his head out of the front cowling of forty-nineR Bartowski where he had been looking at the planes air conditioning compressor and casually waved his hand, "Don't I always?" And his head disappeared back into the cowl.

Chuck turned back to Sarah and shrugged, "Yeah, he does," he said, with a snerk. He stood there looking at her very seriously for several seconds as she met his gaze unwaveringly. Then he reached out and took her hand, "C'mon I want to show you something," he said leading her around the two aircraft that he and Kyle had been flying that day. They walked to the third airplane on the tie down line, N402SB, and Chuck released her hand, the test now over once he was convinced what he felt when she had offered her hand a moment ago was indeed real.

"This is our Hotrod, a Cascade converted Walter powered Air Tractor 402," he said with admiration as he placed a hand on the leading edge of the wing and stroked it lovingly, "We use her for tight work when it gets really hot. Lots of excess power, very nimble, solid as a rock, but such a sweetheart, a real lady, just a joy to fly," he rambled, with a far away look in his eyes that seemed to say he was in her manipulating the controls and making her dance a Tango in the sky.

Sarah gazed at Chuck suddenly wide-eyed as she listened to his very gender specific description of an airplane as something so physically connected and sensual. The way he said it made the heat of the late afternoon May sun shining on her back feel instantly hotter as she watched his eyes caress the plane and then fall on her finally meeting her eyes with a slight blush. She opened her mouth searching for something, anything, to say either in acknowledgement or rebuttal, but before she could say anything he had nimbly jumped onto the wing using the tire and landing gear leg as steps and opened the cockpit access door and lowered it down to the side of the fuselage.

He patted the lower edge of the entry with his hand, "Hop in," he said, with his disarming smile and motioned for her to walk around the wing to the trailing edge below the cockpit. Sarah looked at Chuck appraisingly, wondering if he was coming on to her, but she saw innocent mirth dancing in his eyes, like he was a young boy offering to share his favorite toy with a new found friend. He pointed out the step below the wing and a handle on the side of the fuselage for her to grab and she climbed up onto the wing next to him. Then he showed her a recessed step in the side of the fuselage and pointed to the cross bars in the top of the cockpit roll cage.

"You saw Kyle and I getting out, right?"

"Yes," she nodded with enthusiasm, as she looked into the surprisingly roomy office space.

"Well, just sort of reverse the motion. Climbing into one of these things can be accomplished several different ways, but you'll find a way that works the best for you after you do it a few times. I like to swing a leg in then sit on the sill and use the overhead to hoist myself the rest of the way in."

Sarah thought about his description for a second or two, and then gracefully climbed into the cockpit like she was an old hand at it. She caught the look of surprise on Chuck's face and smiled at him with amusement.

"Have you done that before?" he asked curiously, "Or are you gymnast, or maybe an acrobat? Perhaps a dancer? Maybe a ninja?"

She placed her hand on top of his that was resting on the lower edge of the cockpit door and snickered, "Are you a mind reader?" She asked wryly with a wink.

"Well, okay then, all of the above," he said as the curious expression grew on his face. "So what do you think? Does it fit?"

"There's a lot more room in here than I thought there would be," she said looking around at the instruments and the spray controls.

"Well, you're sitting behind a four-hundred gallon hopper. Wait until you sit behind a five hundred or six hundred gallon one, those are downright spacious inside. This plane was my dad's first turbine sprayplane, his pride and joy. He just loved to work from her, so she gets pampered like a Hollywood starlet," he said with just a faint hint of wistfulness.

Sarah felt her hand tighten on Chuck's as she turned her attention from the instrument panel to look at him. He had just shared something personal with her and she was trying to decide whether to ask him why he referred to his father in the past tense when he spoke first.

"Dad passed away three years ago when I was in my senior year at the Naval Academy. He was an electrical and computer engineer by trade and a naval aviator, but our family has also been in farming for five generations. Grandpa was a crop duster and started this business in the late 1950's. Dad couldn't let it go…I guess neither could I. It sort of gets into your blood after a while." She watched him smile at her, but she could see loss swimming sadly in the back of his hauntingly attractive hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Chuck," Sarah answered sympathetically as she debated with herself whether she should ask more. She decided to pursue it further since he had opened up to her and she hoped he would fill some apparent gaps in his dossier, "Your father couldn't have been very old when he died, what happened to him?"

"A massive heart attack," he answered with a shake of his head and a far away expression on his face. "He was only fifty-three years old. It never made any sense to me; he was a fitness buff and stronger than an ox. He took his health very seriously being a military pilot and all." He looked at her with a hint of guilt in his eyes and then motioned to the plane she was sitting in and smiled crookedly, "Anyway, this was his sweetheart, and he could make her dance…Lordy, could he make her dance…he was _good. _One of the best."

Sarah watched the man in front of her wondering where that look of guilt she briefly saw was coming from. She needed answers. What she was seeing here in many ways didn't fit what she had been told about her mark in her briefings. "You said you were in the Naval Academy, Chuck. Shouldn't you be filling your commission obligations right now?" She watched his face suddenly darken so much she almost wished she hadn't asked the question as he turned away from her and looked unfocused across the airfield.

"Sometimes things don't go the way we plan or would like them to. I didn't graduate from the Academy," he said with a hard edge to his voice. "It's a long story. Probably better told around a campfire with a bottle of Crown Royal." He turned back to her and met her eyes as he smiled sheepishly, "Anyway, after dad died someone needed to run the business. I wasn't going to let the family legacy die on the vine. And in spite of what you see before you now at this minute, I'm at peace with the choices I've made. I love what I do. I get to fly almost every day, and I know that makes my dad very happy, wherever he is."

"It sounds like your father and you were very close," Sarah said suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable sitting in the same seat the man had himself once sat in.

"We weren't as close as you might think. When I was younger he was always away on deployments. Gramps and Ellie mostly raised me. Dad got back into the business after the Navy decided they weren't going to allow him to shoot carrier traps anymore, but he was always away doing government engineering contracts when we weren't spraying. He was a classic workaholic and the government owned him as much as this business did, clear up until the day he died." He slapped the side of airplane affectionately obviously making an effort to change the mood, and offered Sarah his hand, "Here, let me help you out of there," he said, and she hoisted herself from the cockpit and stepped down to the ground as he closed the cockpit and followed her.

He stepped down from the wing and the momentum of the step down brought him up very close to her. He looked down at her very appraisingly for a moment, wondering why he was getting ready to ask the question that was floating in his mind, and perhaps questioning his own motivations. "So, Sarah, do you have any tailwheel time? That's kind of important if you want to seriously consider doing a job like this."

She met his gaze and had to admit she was more than a little surprised he was asking the question. She really didn't think he would remotely consider giving her a job flying the plane she was sitting in, and she had assumed he was just humoring her. But, she had had a truthful response ready in case he asked it, and was oddly relieved that she didn't have to lie about it. "I have a few hundred taildragger hours. My grandfather was also a pilot and he taught me to fly in a Super Cub before I turned thirteen. I used to love flying that plane. I kind of miss it."

That snapped Chuck from his funk and he smiled broadly. It was so very infectious, and Sarah felt her own mood lighten when she saw it. "Then I have a treat for you! I have a Super Cub in the barn at the house. How would you like to fly it tomorrow?"

"Wow, Chuck, that would be a treat. I'd love to."

"Well great! Then it's a date." _A date? _"Although, I have to warn you; it probably isn't even remotely like your grandfather's Supercub, it's been modified a little bit."

"Now I'm really curious, Chuck Bartowski. I have to wait till tomorrow?"

Chuck rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his watch. He briefly pondered the opportunity fate and the beautiful woman in front of him was presenting to him. It had been over three years since he'd asked a woman on a date, let alone one as pretty as the one in front of him. Now this gorgeous lady was suggesting coming to his home and they hadn't even been on a date yet. This was pushing the boundaries of his personal sense of propriety. But she just wanted to see the Cub, right? And it _was_ at the house. He fidgeted, looking at his feet for a second before looking up at her and saying with a gulp of air, "Well, I suppose we could go out to the house and I could show it to you, but, bein' as I've already had a beer, any flying will have to wait till tomorrow. And I still have some paperwork to do here before I go. Plus I need to make sure we're going have some chemical we need delivered in time for a job we have in the morning. How would you like to come over for a glass of wine and a light meal after I'm done here? I have a tasty bottle of Zin I've been saving for a special occasion."

"Sure, I'd like that," she answered brightly, but marveled inside at the display of shy trepidation he was displaying to her, "I need to make a couple of phone calls, though, can I meet you inside your office in a few minutes?"

"Sure, c'mon in the office when you're done," Chuck replied, and he parted ways with her standing next to the sign at the edge of the deck.

Sarah looked over at the sign with the winged 'B' and smiled as she placed the call on her phone. And then the smile quickly faded.

-IV-

As Chuck was filling out his paperwork for the county ag commissioner the door to the office flew open and Morgan Grimes threw his cowboy hat across the room like a Frisbee at a rather ornate wooden hat rack watching it land with a spin on one of the pegs. "Yes!" He pumped his fist and looked at his friend with excitement dancing in his eyes, "Vicki Vale is right outside our offices, Chuck," he exclaimed enthusiastically as he walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a Red Bull from the shelf, "What is she doing here?" He punctuated the question by opening the can and taking a drink from it.

Chuck gave his best friend a brief amused look and resumed his work on the pile of forms on his desk, "Turns out she's a pilot. She wanted to talk shop," he answered as casually as possible.

"Oh, really? So that's why she was watching you guys today, huh? Does Kyle have a new groupie now?"

Chuck dropped his pencil on the desk and peered at Morgan through narrowing eyes, then grinned realizing his friend was trying to get a rise out of him, "Actually, she said she was looking for me, buddy. She says she's looking for a job," he said, noting his friend's reaction with amusement.

"Oh, _really?_ She wants to be an ag pilot, huh? That would sure cause a stir at the state convention now wouldn't it? She'd better be single; it would drive her poor husband crazy. Then again, if some of those wives found out she was single…watch out, they would go nuts too." he added, snickering, as he pondered the possibilities with a wry grin.

Chuck smiled at the vision of Sarah at a state ag aviation association cocktail party, "I think she's single," replied Chuck scratching his chin, "At least she's not wearing a ring. Although, I can't imagine a woman that beautiful not at least having a boyfriend," he thought out loud.

"Well, maybe she's in the middle of a breakup, judging by that phone conversation," said the bearded man with a jerk of his head as he looked out the arcadia door.

Chuck looked through the glass following his friend's eyes. Sarah Walker appeared to be in the middle of a very animated and heated discussion with someone on her cell phone. She actually looked rather upset about something, and he looked away, feeling like he was intruding on something private. She was definitely very mad about something.

"Hmm, that's illuminating," he said to his computer monitor, "Note to self: Don't get on Sarah Walker's bad side."

Morgan laughed as he turned to his boss and best friend, "I don't know, I think she looks kind of cute when she's mad. Not that I think I'd be trying to push her buttons just to see her use the dark side of the force," he added thoughtfully, "She looks like she could kill someone with just a look."

Chuck looked up from his monitor to his friend, "I invited her out to the house to see dad's Super Cub. She learned how to fly in one."

"Okaaay. Will you be wearing your smoking jacket when you show it to her?" He asked with a laugh, "Seriously, pal, I'll be your wingman if you want, but I doubt I'd be much help judging by that." Morgan winced when Sarah looked up at him through the window with surprise and quickly turned her back to him. "I guess this means we're off for game night tonight, then?"

"Yeah, we'll have to frag noobs on another night, buddy. At least, assuming I still _have_ a date," he said glancing out the window.

Morgan placed his hands on his waist and grinned at his pal, "A date, huh? Wow, it is so good to finally hear you use that word again. I'll settle for a gaming rain check any day of the week if I get to hear you use the word 'date' more often. I can't believe one of the counties most eligible bachelors hasn't even been on a date in three years."

Chuck smiled sheepishly, fidgeting in his desk chair, "Yeah, I haven't used that word in a while, have I? Sure you're okay with me going out with Shanna the She-Devil after such a long spell?"

"Dude, at this point I'd be happy if you went out with a character from the Twilight Series," Morgan replied with a grin.

The door opened and Sarah Walker peeked into the room around it, "Chuck? Can I come in? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"C'mon in, Sarah. No, you're not interrupting anything at all, except maybe a discussion about bad vampire novels. I'd like to introduce you to my partner in crime. This is my best friend, Call of Duty squad mate, and confidant through thick and thin, Morgan Grimes," he said with obvious pride.

Morgan looked quickly back and forth between the two, shifted his Red Bull to his other hand, and wiped his hand on his jeans before reaching out to shake Sarah's from a safe distance. "Nice to meet you, Sarah, welcome to our humble abode," he stammered, gesturing to the room, "Can I get you anything? A Red Bull maybe?" He said holding up his can, "Or a beer? Soda? Water? Blood?" He winced again, seeing her reaction, and the look of horror on his friends face, "Forget about the blood, we really don't have any of that."

Sarah quickly recovered and grinned at him. Then she did something that threw both Chuck and Morgan back on their heels – she licked her lips deliciously, "Oh, I'm sure there's plenty of warm blood available if a girl wanted some, but no thank you," she said with a faint chuckle. "Nice to meet you, Morgan, I'm really not as dangerous as I look," she lied, as she gave him a disarming smile and delighted in how much of the white of his eyes was showing.

Chuck stood from his chair and walked around his desk. He looked at his friend in a way that said, 'drop it', and furiously searched for something in his mind to change the subject, but Sarah saved him by speaking first.

"So, Chuck, I cleared my calendar for the evening," she said with a wry grin realizing they had seen her heated conversation with Langston Graham through the window and deciding to use the slip up to her advantage, "I hope I didn't scare you off with that little display out there, I'm sorry about that. I don't normally allow someone to get under my skin like that, but I'm going through a bit of a rough break-up right now."

Chuck looked over at Morgan and saw _"I told you!" _written in his eyes. Then he thought to himself, _Dammit, she's on the rebound. _"Whoa, Sarah, it's alright, don't worry about it. You really don't have to share your personal life with us, you hardly know us. But I'm sorry you're going through a rough spot," he added sincerely. Why anyone would do anything to let her get that mad at him like that and leave…just stupid, he thought.

"It's okay, Chuck. It's over. It was actually over a while ago. I don't mind talking about it." _In fact, I wanted you to know,_ she thought, thinking of the mess that Bryce had put her in._ Why?_

"Chuck, buddy, I think I better be going," Morgan said tactfully, "The crew is outside waiting for an answer about work in the morning. What should I tell them?"

"Tell them the usual time; 4:30. We should be done by 10:00 though, so we can plan for an early weekend. Though it'll probably be the last free weekend we have for a while."

"Sounds good, Chuckles, I'll leave the driveway gate open for you; see you at zero-dark-thirty." Morgan walked over to the hat rack grabbing his hat and then looked at Sarah as he was going out the door, "Nice to meet you, Sarah Walker. Try not to keep my friend up too late," he said with a wink.

"Well," said Chuck a little awkwardly after Morgan had left, "We have a little logistical problem. Would you like to follow me out to the house in your Porsche? That way we won't have to come back here later and you'll have your car if you need it for anything," he suggested, realizing how it made him sound a little like he was worried he would bore her or run her off.

"That sounds fine, Chuck. At the very least I'll know how to get to your house on my own, won't I?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," he answered thinking of the implications of her statement with a little bit of surprise. "Okay, my truck's parked over by the hangar. It's the copper F250 Lariat. I guess I shouldn't worry too much about losing you."

"No, I think I'll be able to keep up," she answered with a smile.

As she drove east down the road following Chuck's Ford pickup truck towards the Bartowski family farm, Sarah thought about how she could have already found her way to Chuck's house as she already had their destination selected on her GPS. Langston Graham had given her an assignment she wasn't at all pleased to have, and she wondered just what Bryce Larkin and Chuck Bartowski were up to that could have embroiled them both in a situation where 'answers at any cost' and 'sanction approval with prejudice' would be so readily given on an NSA agent and active duty member of the military, and his American civilian friend, especially one who seemed so open, and friendly, and unassuming as Chuck Bartowski. Something just didn't add up, and she was going to get to the bottom of it. And for some reason she couldn't put her finger on, she was going to give Chuck the benefit of the doubt she was feeling about what was being said about him.

* * *

**A/N **I wrote this self-indulgent little ditty several weeks ago to work through some writers block and as an exercise to prepare for writing an original story with an agricultural aviation theme. So now I'm working on three stories at once. If you had told me I'd be doing this three months ago I'd have told you that you were crazy.


	2. Getting to Know You?

**A/N **7/22/12 - Here you go, chapter 2 of my new AU Chuck story. This story has received a lot more interest than I thought it would so I used a few down days because of bad weather during the last several weeks to indulge all of us and keep the fire burning.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, favs, follows, and even a C2. Wow, I'm very gratified. Ya'll are a great bunch of folks.

**I don't own Chuck**

* * *

**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 2 – Getting to Know You?**

She watched Chuck's truck turn onto a dirt driveway off the old asphalt county road and drive under a classic American ranch gate entrance made of old well casing pipe painted white. Over the gate on an arch of wrought iron was the flying 'B' and she smiled as she looked at the old white two-story farmhouse to the right of the gate with large cottonwood trees and grass around it. One of the trees had a tire swing hanging from it. Then her smile morphed into an expression of puzzlement as his truck continued slowly down the dirt lane beyond the house and past an oat field bordered by a barbed-wire fence. After a minute the oat field turned to alfalfa and beyond it trees and more classic Americana came into view in front of her.

It was a picture fit for a postcard and Sarah's mouth fell agape as she took it all in. Lit by the early evening sun was a large wood sided ranch house and an accompanying barn both stained burgundy red with white trim. Several large shade trees were dotted around the grounds and behind the home to the east were golden colored foothills dotted with oak trees rising to the Sierra Nevada Mountains beyond. The house had a broad covered porch that wrapped around two sides of it. The front half was wood with a porch swing hanging from the overhead beams and it transitioned down steps to flagstone along the south side of the building that looked out onto a pasture surrounded by white well pipe fence with well sucker rod rails and the red barn beyond it. Behind the barn more of the large cottonwood trees grew along a meandering dry creek bed that ran to the west and wrapped around the eastern edge of the property behind the house. Several horses, some cattle, and a couple of mules were in the pastures looking at them when they drove into the circular drive in front of the house. Surrounding the house was a low white rail fence with a multitude of different colored rose bushes along the front of it. Beyond the fence was a neatly mowed lawn with a flagstone path leading to the front porch and a sight that made Sarah's breath hitch unexpectedly when she saw it. Gardenia bushes filled with blooms –her favorite flower – framed the front of the house and porch, and she felt a sudden and powerfully intimate attraction to this place.

Chuck pulled into a short driveway in front of a rustic old wooden garage off the north side of the drive and then jumped from his truck and trotted over to Sarah's Porsche to open her door for her. "Welcome to Casa Bartowski," he said with a sweep of his other arm as he held the door open for her, bowing at the waist, and then offering her his hand to help her from her car.

Sarah stepped from her car smiling at his chivalrous gesture before looking around. "Wow, Chuck, this place is incredible," she said as she turned around in place taking in the view. "You live here by yourself?" She asked with a touch of wonder.

"Yeah, pretty much. Though my sister has a room in the house she still uses every now and then when she comes to ride her horses."

"So you have a sister. Any other siblings?"

"No, it's just Ellie and me. She's a doctor of veterinary medicine. She lives in Bakersfield with her boyfriend, Devon. He's also a doctor, but the people kind, a brain surgeon, actually. Every now and then they come out to the Casa to spend a few days away from town. It's quieter out here, a good place to relax."

"I'll bet," Sarah said still looking around, "It looks like your nearest neighbor is over a half mile away."

His smile lit up. "Yeah, up until last spring my next door neighbor was Buck Owens. He passed away last March, but his son still owns the property. I'm gonna miss Buck, he was a very cool dude, and a good neighbor. His singing voice has graced our living room on more than one occasion."

Sarah just stared at him with a blank look on her face.

"You don't know who Buck Owens is do you?" Chuck asked her with an amused grin.

Sarah bit her lower lip and gave him slightly embarrassed smile. "No, I'm afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, but it sounds like he was a musician? Perhaps country? I'm mostly a city girl."

"Yep, Buck was a country music legend, and kind of an icon around here. Don't worry. If you hang around long enough we'll make sure you know all the local trivia. And we'll turn you into a country girl before you can say 'boot scootin'," he chuckled. "C'mon, let me show you around a bit before we get something to eat. It looks like Morgan is here feeding the livestock," he added, pointing to a four-wheel drive Honda Fourtrax quad parked over by the barn.

As they walked down the dirt road toward the barn Sarah looked across the alfalfa field towards the west and then back to Chuck. "How big is this place?"

"Two sections. That's a little over twelve hundred acres, or one mile wide by two miles long. About of a third of a section of the ranch is in the foothills behind the house. The rest runs up to the county road in front of the caretaker's house at the gate. I mostly grow feed crops for our animals on the part I farm. The rest I sell to the local feed store and some of the equestrian people and 4H kids around here who want premium feed. Our alfalfa is some of the best you can get," he said with pride.

Sarah's expression turned to one of surprise, "One by two miles?" She asked with incredulity, "Do you take care of all of this by yourself?"

He laughed, "No, I've got help. Morgan lives in the caretaker's house and he helps out with the livestock and cutting hay. A couple of my employees from the aerial application business also help out around here a couple of days a week when we're not slammed with spray work. This place can be a lot of work, but it's not as bad as you might think."

"Well, it looks like it could be a full time job just maintaining _it_, if you ask me," she stated with a hint of awe.

"Well it does keep me a busy, I'll admit that," he chuckled.

As they walked up the road to the barn some of the horses started to follow them along the fence and suddenly a gray dog came tearing out of the barn toward them at a breakneck pace. "Chewie! How are ya doin', knucklehead," Chuck exclaimed as the dog zoomed around them and under the fence to tease the horses as he ran around them. "Chewie! Leave the horses alone! How many times do I have to tell you!" Chuck turned to Sarah, "He's a Queensland Heeler. He can't help himself, it's in his blood," he mused as they watched the dog run around the horses and then finally trotted up to greet them.

"Chewie, meet Sarah. On your best behavior, bud," he warned the dog, which actually seemed to understand him and dialed back his excitement a notch as he stepped up to Sarah wagging his tail and giving her a cautious sniff.

"Hi, Chewie. It's nice to meet you," said Sarah with outward enthusiasm as she patted him on the head and scratched behind his ears. He soaked up the attention she was giving him.

"Oh, yeah, you've definitely made a new friend," said Chuck with a smile that dazzled her.

"Where did he get the name, Chewie?"

"Well, he's a herding dog, he has tendency to nip at the heels of the livestock. But I'm also a Star Wars fan, so the name is a double entendre. It's short for Chewbacca. I've been trying to break him of the heel nipping habit with the horses – rather unsuccessfully – I'm afraid. Bo over there is going to kick him one of these days," he said, pointing at a particularly striking looking buckskin horse.

"Bo?" Sarah snerked.

"Short for Bodacious. We could probably spend the whole evening talking about animal names, so…" he trailed off with a shrug.

"Ah, got it, changing the subject or get bogged-"

"Hey, Chuck, Sarah!" They looked up to see Morgan Grimes walking out of the barn with a flake of hay in each hand. "No fair, you caught me working!" He walked over to the fence and threw the hay into some feeders that were attached to it.

"Good to see you're earning your keep, buddy. Would you mind giving Ellie's horse a bucket of oats? She's planning on being here for Memorial Day weekend and I want to make sure Jesse is in tip-top shape for her."

"You bet. Consider it done. Are you giving Sarah the nickel tour? I see she's met Chewie," Morgan said with a grin noting the way the dog was following her closely and nuzzling her hand.

"I guess you could say that. We just got here. Since we're at the barn I thought I'd show her the Cub."

"Ah, introducing her to the mistress already, huh?"

Sarah looked back and forth at them with a puzzled look on her face. "The mistress?"

Morgan shot her a wry grin, "You'll see… I've got to finish up with these chores, then I'll be on my way back to the homestead. Just shout if you need anything Chuckster," he exclaimed as he turned back to the haystack under the open hay barn next to the corral. "Nice to see you Sarah. You don't know how much," he added with wink and a tip of his cowboy hat.

Sarah turned to see Chuck rubbing his neck with a sheepish look on his face that he followed with a little shrug before they continued walking toward the barn. They went into the open barn door passing horse stalls and a tack room as they walked toward the back of the large building. At the back of the barn in a large concrete floored area surrounded by machine tools and shop equipment was a yellow Piper Supercub with the classic black lightning bolt stripe down the side. But this was no ordinary Cub. The first thing that caught Sarah's eyes were the extremely large tires and extended landing gear it was resting on. They caused the airplane to sit at very exaggerated angle. The wheel hubcaps had the yin and yang symbol painted on them in yellow and black. Then she saw that even the tailwheel was much larger than normal, and the prop was very oversized too. And the plane had a slot cut into the leading edge of the wing and vortex generators along the top of it. This machine was built for the bush; it was a flying Jeep. She had seen similar Cub's on a mission in Alaska a few years ago, but none of them looked as nice as this.

Chuck walked to the front of the airplane and slid open a large double door on rollers to let the evening light into the space casting the airplane in a warm glow. And then as they walked around the plane Sarah saw why 'she' was being referred to as the 'mistress'. Painted on the engine cowling was a very shapely female bear with a blue and white polka-dot bow on her head wearing a matching polka –dot bikini. She was sitting on a cloud with her legs crossed striking a provocative pose. She was a cutie, right down to her stylized paws. Painted next to her were the words 'Stephen's Mistress'. A short laugh passed Sarah's lips and her hand came up to them and she looked at Chuck with a twinkle in her eye, "Oh, that is too cute," she said with amusement and then added with curiosity, "Stephen was your father's name?"

"Yep, this was his favorite toy. He's taken it to Alaska a few times to hunt and fish. He and I flew it to a Cub fly-in in Idaho a few summers ago, which was a total blast. Almost a hundred Cubs crammed onto a grass backcountry airstrip. And let me tell you, those people know how to party. It is one of the fondest memories I have of Dad, we had a great time."

"It's beautiful, Chuck." She noted how Chuck tended to still refer to his father in the present tense occasionally. "I can only imagine how you must feel when you fly it," she said, thinking of the connection it probably still gave to his father.

"You're very perceptive, Miss Walker. Yeah, I still share the controls with Pop when I fly her," he said with a wistful smile. "Still want to go for a ride in it?"

"Oh, yeah! Most definitely," Sarah exclaimed enthusiastically, "I'll bet this would be a fun way to have a picnic," she coyly suggested with a wink, her hands resting on her hips.

"That is a _very _good idea. Maybe we could do that tomorrow after I'm done with work. What time did you say your interview was tomorrow?"

"I didn't say, but it's at 9:30. I'll probably be done in time for lunch."

"Well then, lets plan on a picnic in the Cub, then. But you better do some chair flying because you're not just going to be a passenger tomorrow." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Speaking of food, I'm pretty hungry, how about you? Can I show you the rest of the house and maybe feed you a little supper? Maybe a glass of wine?"

She placed her hand on his arm gazing at him, "I'm starving. I haven't had a thing to eat since stopping at In-N-Out in Valencia just before noon."

"Well follow me, then." He glanced at her knowingly like they shared a secret, "In-N-Out, huh? You have good taste in burgers. Did you order from the secret menu?"

She grinned at him, linking her arm with his as they walked, "Always."

-II-

Sarah stepped through the front door of Casa Bartowski – there was actually a wood sign proclaiming it as such with the lettering burned into the wood and the flying 'B' brand burned over it attached next to the front door - the heady smell of the blooming gardenias following her into the living room where she gazed around at the rustic ambiance of the room. The living room with a large river stone fireplace was off to the left and a dining area with a large dining table for twelve was off to the right with a double set of French doors opening to the flagstone south porch beyond it. Several hunting trophies adorned the walls with a Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep figuring prominently over the fireplace mantle and a Sharps rifle hung on wood pegs below it. Leaning against the stone base of the fireplace was a red, white, and blue acoustic guitar. A large Navajo rug covered the wood floor of the living area and large leather sofas with oak end tables and armchairs surrounded a rustic oak coffee table in the center. A very large Maine Coon Cat was curled up asleep on the love seat oblivious to them. There was no TV in the room. Beyond the dining area was a large open kitchen with flagstone flooring and oak cabinets surrounding a large island. The counter tops were pounded copper. The appliances had an antique look about them and they were all painted with a deep red enamel and accented with copper and bronze trim. The whole living space was splashed with jewel tone colors and accents. The open multi-pane windows and French doors framed by elegant lace draperies lighted the room accented by several antique looking table lamps and a large oblong copper and crystal chandelier over the dining table. Against one wall separating the living and bedroom wing of the house was a large and very ornate oak gun cabinet with a porcelain Winchester Repeating Arms logo inlaid over the glass doors.

Sarah's eyes settled on the rifles and shotguns in the cabinet. They all looked pristine and well cared for, and to her trained eye they all appeared to be Winchesters, some of them quite old. For some reason when she looked at Chuck she couldn't picture him harming a fly, but apparently there in front of her was evidence to the contrary. "Are you a hunter, Chuck?" Her question was matter-of-fact without a hint of judgment.

He looked at her for a moment seeming to try to measure up her opinion about the subject by the look on her face, which to his frustration was totally unreadable. "Yeah, I'm a hunter, but only occasionally these days. It's kind of a family tradition, although I haven't had much time for it lately. I mostly hunt upland birds now or deer for the freezer. I don't hunt anything I don't intend to eat. Most of these trophies are Gramps but Dad shot that Bighorn in Colorado years ago. That four point Mulie over there is mine," he said pointing to a deer head mounted on the wall next to the gun cabinet. "I hope you're not offended that I shot Bambie," he added a little sheepishly.

To his relief she gave him an understanding smile. "No, I don't have a big problem with hunting, especially the way you say you do it. I think there's some nobility in understanding exactly where that steak you're eating came from."

"You would probably find the Bartowski hunting ritual to be very interesting, then. Gramps taught us to hold all the game we took with extreme reverence, and not to waste any of it, or to take it for granted."

"As long as you don't have a fetish about hunting endangered species I think we'll get along fine, Chuck," she responded wryly.

He sighed with relief, "No, that's not me, or anyone I know for that matter. I guess you could define me as a conservationist when it comes to that sort of thing, and honoring the land in general. I make my living off the bounty of the earth, after all. It wouldn't make much sense not to respect it and be a good steward of it."

Sarah studied him for a moment, fascinated by the contrasts of the man in front of her. He appeared so outwardly gentle, yet she knew something much stronger was hidden beneath the surface. She wondered just how tough he might really be, and if he could be genuinely dangerous. She looked around the room again and then turned a penetrating gaze onto his eyes. She just didn't see a killer hidden in them, or one who might sell out his country for money or a nefarious cause. Then she smiled at him disarmingly, "This is a very charming place you have here, Chuck, but I believe you said something about a glass of wine and something to eat?"

"Oh, pardon me, I haven't forgotten you," he effused with a touch of apology in his voice, "Follow me. Let's see what we can find, shall we?"

They walked into the kitchen and Chuck opened a below the counter wine refrigerator in the island and looked into it. "How does a nice jammy Zin sound? Maybe a little cheese with it followed by some dark chocolate?"

"Oh, that sounds yummy. Especially the part about the chocolate," she nodded enthusiastically.

"I kind of figured you'd like that part," he said, with a crooked smile as he looked out of the corner of his eye at her. "Here's one of my favorites from across the valley in Paso Robles." He proceeded to pull a corkscrew from a drawer and had the bottle open in seconds, setting it on the counter to breath before turning to the refrigerator in search of something. "Since you're obviously hungry I'm going to enlist your help. Would you mind grabbing that cutting board over there, and a couple of plates from the cupboard?"

He pointed in the direction of the cabinet next to the sink and Sarah went to it in search of the requested items.

"I've got some smoked trout that a farmer buddy of mine caught up on the Kern River," he said with his head in the fridge, "How does that sound to you? Maybe with a couple of slices from a baguette?"

"You're spoiling me, Chuck."

"I'll take that as a yes," he said turning from the fridge with that astonishing grin of his that caused her heart to suddenly pick up it's pace in a way that startled her because she couldn't seem to slow it down no matter what she tried.

-III-

"Oh, my, this is _really _good," she said taking another bite of the smoked trout followed by a nibble of sourdough.

"Yeah, Charlie is a real artist with a smoker. He used apple wood for this batch. He's not too shabby with a flyrod either. He's a fishing fool, and that's good for us, isn't it?"

"You can say that again…oh, wow," she let out a deep guttural groan and licked her fingertips, "that is _so good!"_

They were sitting out on the back patio at a small table under a large grape arbor enjoying the cool early May evening air and the smell of roses and gardenias on the breeze. Chuck watched her with fascination and a quickened pulse as she savored the flavor of the seasonings lingering on her own fingers. The sight was quite sensual and he wondered how much she realized it, or if it was intentional. She definitely knew how to appreciate some of the finer things in life, he concluded. Sarah Walker was without a doubt one of the most beautiful and fascinating women he had ever laid eyes on. He was smitten, and he knew it.

He refilled her glass with the Fatboy Zinfandel. "And now, for the moment I know you've been waiting for."

He broke off a square of Ghirardelli 72% dark chocolate and set it next to her glass. "Take a bite of that, then a sip of your Zin," he more than suggested.

Sarah did as instructed and he watched her with a broad smile as her eyes looked like they were going to roll back into her head. _"Oh…my…God. This…is…simply…__**amazing.**__"_ She felt like she was going to melt into a puddle right in front of Chuck, "Ooooooooooh!"

Chuck's eyes grew as large as espresso cups. He felt like he had just witnessed something extremely intimate. Something that belonged in another setting altogether, and it caused him to blush intensely. Even Chewie, who was lying near Sarah's feet, looked up startled by the sound she made and watched her curiously.

Sarah noticed his reaction and beamed at Chuck even as she regained control. She cleared her throat. "Wow, was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"Yes."

"You know how to get to a girl, Chuck Bartowski."

"Thank you," he said, unable to look away from her eyes. "I try."

"No. You do."

His eyes filled with gratitude and curiosity at her compliment. He motioned to her wine and chocolate and flashed the Bartowski smile, "Please…continue…" his voice trailed off.

Sarah giggled at him as she took another sip of wine, "Don't mind if I do…" she trailed off in response sipping her wine while holding the square of chocolate in her other hand…followed shortly by another sighing moan from deep within her.

Chuck just watched her with wonder in his eyes as he drank his wine.

They sat wordlessly for several minutes just enjoying the cool evening and each others company while sipping their wine. It felt easy, without any pressure or need to fill the space with conversation.

Finally, Sarah broke the silence. "Chuck, I need to visit the powder room, can you point me in the right direction?"

"Sure. It's through the French doors behind me and down the hall in either direction," he said pointing over his shoulder. "The master bath is to the right, the guest bath is to the left. Feel free to use either one. I'll wait for you out here."

She got up and placed her hand one his shoulder, catching his eye as she went by. "Thanks. I'll just be a few minutes."

He patted her hand, "No worries, mi casa es su casa."

-IV-

As she stepped through the French doors Sarah was met by a second of indecision as she decided which direction to go. Her curiosity got the better of her and she turned right walking down a hallway lined with pictures of family and friends, shadow box frames filled with livestock and equestrian ribbons and medals, and other memorabilia. She turned left through open double doors into a spacious master suite with a king sized four-poster bed and a sitting area with a Franklin stove next to a bay window looking out at a panorama of the foothills east of the house where a nearly full moon was lighting the twilight scene. It was quite beautiful. A large dresser with a mirror over it and a wardrobe occupied the wall and corner opposite the bed. To the left were the bath and a walk in closet. The bath was decorated with jewel tone Mexican tile, Saltillo floors, and a large Mexican tiled walk-in shower. A large clawfoot tub was set in another bay window at the end of the room looking out into a small walled garden area outside. Sarah was overcome by the charm of the space and for that matter, the entire home. There was so much care and individuality showing in the design and the décor. _My house is your house. What a charming thought. _She made quick work in the bath so she could explore a little more without raising suspicion.

She padded down the hall looking briefly at Chuck still sitting with his back to her on the patio sipping his glass of wine, apparently gazing out at his garden. She turned right through another set of double doors and her jaw dropped. This must be the 'den', or 'man cave' as was becoming the parlance. However this was probably better described as a 'man cavern'. A large built-in desk figured prominently along two walls opposite the doorway with three very large computer monitors on it. Next to the desk built into the wall was a full-blown enterprise server stack in nineteen-inch floor to ceiling racks, by the looks of it, custom built. It housed three very large RAID arrays with hot swappable disk trays and the accompanying processor module blades with an apparently dedicated active cooling system – and it was running. The monitors were in screen saver mode, the Call of Duty logo with 'Team Bartowski' danced across the three dark monitor screens. The room had a very modern look to it that seemed out of place with the rest of the home. Around the desk were pictures from Stephen Bartowki's days as a Navy carrier pilot, an engineer, and crop duster pilot and farmer. There were also pictures of someone who must have been Chuck's grandfather. A couple of the pictures of him were with Stearman Biplane crop dusters, like a scene from 'North by Northwest'. Another was a picture of him on an aircraft carrier deck standing in front of a Grumman F-9F. He was a very dashing looking man who appeared to have a sense of flamboyant style judging by the pictures. And there were pictures of three women that Sarah assumed must be Chuck's sister, his mother, and his grandmother. He had yet to mention his mother in conversation…curious.

The other half of the room was divided by a sofa and contained an elaborate home theater system. Two very cushy chair-and-a-half's flanked the sofa facing a _very_ large flat panel screen mounted on the wall with tower speakers on each side. Looking around the room she realized the walls were bristling with speakers and acoustic panels. Game controllers and a wireless keyboard and mouse were sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The room had no windows. Then something even more interesting caught her eye to the right of her; a green enamel painted walk through vault door built into the wall near the corner of the room set between two bookcases behind the office area and desk. Now she was smoldering with curiosity – and more than a little suspicion. _What are you hiding in there, Chuck Bartowski?_ She decided she would be returning to have a better look at this room, and soon, because time was running out.

Sarah Walker stood at the French door leading from the living room for a moment looking out through the glass panes at Chuck Bartowski trying to make some sense of the man as she watched him sitting on the patio outside. He swirled the wine around in his glass and took a drink, then looked down at his dog and gave him a scratch behind the ears. Chuck seemed so genuine, so unassuming, and so gentle, and yet he exuded strength in intangible ways - ways that she wanted to better understand. He just didn't appear to be someone who was a member of the world in which she lived; a world of lies and deceit, posturing, and brutality. A sometimes vicious and ruthless world where the participants justified and cloaked the terrible things they did with words like duty, country, patriotism, and honor. Sarah had no illusions about what her world did to the people who were in it if they stayed too long, and too long could be a very short time indeed for a person of lesser strength to be corrupted completely by it. Chuck Bartowski just didn't show any of those outwardly visible qualities. The sorts of tells she could see when she looked at herself in the mirror every morning when she forced herself to start her day. When she told herself that what she was doing was for the greater good. Looking at Chuck sharing that look of unconditional love with his dog and his interaction with his friends and employees told a different story all together, and a part of her wished that some of him would rub off on her, maybe even help wash her soul clean by just being around him.

She was startled from her thoughts when she felt something rub up against her leg and looked down to be greeted by the loud purr of a very large and furry cat. She stooped down to give the big fellow some of the affection he craved and the purring reached epic proportions when she scratched him behind the ears and stroked her hand down his back. Maybe the motion caught Chuck's attention, maybe it was the loud noise emanating from the feline at her feet, but she looked up to see him looking back at her through the glass with that astoundingly lovable smile on his face and something unreadable sparkling in his eyes; something she couldn't recall ever seeing in any other persons eyes before. And that look in his eyes rocked her world so severely that for a split second she thought she was going to fall over.

Sarah opened the door for them when Chuck and Chewie got up to come into the house. But when Chewie saw the cat sitting at Sarah's feet he stopped dead in his tracks and wouldn't take another step towards the door. Chuck saw the curious expression growing on Sarah's face and softly chuckled as he stepped up to her.

"I see that Mongo has finally introduced himself to you," he said with look in his eye that said he was just waiting for the expected question.

"You've got to be kidding me…Mongo?"

"Yeah, you know, from 'Blazing Saddles'? He's just a big loveable lug, but definitely not one to be trifled with." Chuck grinned as if he was picturing something vividly in his minds eye. "Mongo only pawn in game of life," he said giving his best Alex Karras imitation with a short chuckle, "however, this big guy is hardly a pawn. He rules the roost, as you can probably tell."

She smiled at his imitation even though she had know idea who he was trying to imitate, then looked down at the big Maine Coon cat and shrugged after a more measured appraisal, accepting that maybe the name might fit, especially seeing the dog's reaction. Then Sarah looked curiously at Chuck like he had grown a pair of antlers, "Blazing Saddles? What's that?"

"Wait…don't tell me you haven't…" he trailed off seeing the pained look in Sarah's eyes. "Well, we'll just have to do something about your pop culture education, won't we?" he suggested in a conciliatory fashion. "It's a Mel Brooks movie. You know, 'Get Smart', 'Spaceballs', 'Young Frankenstein', 'Robin Hood: Men in Tights'?"

Sarah just shrugged her shoulders again at him sheepishly with her palms pointing up at her sides.

He stared at her in shock. "Oh, Sarah, you've just given me a new mission in life."

She looked back at him incredulously, "Geez, Chuck, it looks to me like you've already got all the missions you can handle around here."

"Well, for you I'll take on a couple more. This is important. We're talking about your movie education here," he explained with a lopsided grin.

"If that's an invitation to go to the movies, then I accept."

"I'm glad you agree, because I really wasn't going to accept no for an answer," he responded devilishly.

She laughed, "Don't get cocky, buster, I'm not a pushover. But you mentioned more than one mission, care to elaborate on that?"

"Well you happened to mention looking for a job," he said in an exploratory fashion rubbing his neck pensively, "If you're really serious about it, we'd be talking about a mentorship. We could definitely use another pilot if you were really interested in trying it." Placing his hand on her shoulder Chuck gestured with his other hand to two armchairs sitting ninety degrees to each other by the fireplace and walked into the living room and sat down in one motioning for her to sit in the chair next to him.

Sarah sat down looking intently into his eyes, "Well, I really hadn't given the idea that much thought until I saw you working today. It does look like a fun job, but I'll bet there's probably a lot more to it than I saw today, isn't there?"

He leveled his gaze back at her. "Yes, there is much more than meets the eye, and it's not just the flying part. It's about applying the crop protection product safely and accurately without drift or exposing anyone, and a whole lot of ground work that goes on behind the scenes. There are also risk management aspects that figure very heavily into this sort of flying. This is a job that can make you as dead as fried chicken in a heartbeat if you're not paying attention. It demands 110% of your concentration and it's definitely not for the faint of heart. But something is telling me that's really not an issue for you, is it?"

Sarah snickered inwardly at his statement when she contrasted her current job with what he was describing and then sobered when she realized what he saw in her; that he could see something in her that she normally held very close. It bothered her a bit that he could get a read on her so readily. And in spite of her real qualifications for the job she was feeling an enormous amount of distress playing the role in this ruse she had found herself in. "I'm not fearless, Chuck, if that's what you are asking. But I don't let my fears rule me. I think I could do the job and I'd be up for the challenge. But if you don't mind, I'd like to think about it a bit." _Damn, what am I going to do with this?_

"Certainly," he chuckled, "I'd be a little worried if you didn't want to think it over for a while. And I'm glad to hear you say you're not fearless, that can be a liability in this job." Then the thought of him worrying about Sarah doing this sort of work suddenly snuck into his mind. The smitten side of him wasn't sure if he liked the idea of her doing this job. Maybe a nice safe corporate pilot job for her would be better for his sanity. "Maybe those folks at your interview tomorrow will make you an offer you can't refuse."

"I'll tell you what. I won't accept the jet job if I'm offered it until we've had a chance to discuss this more. Does that sound fair?"

"Yeah, that's more than fair. Besides, we have picnic plans tomorrow. We can talk a bit more about it then, and you can tell me all about your interview."

"Yes, and I'm very much looking forward to that. However, I heard Morgan mention something about you guys being at work at 4:30 in the morning? I think maybe I should probably let you get some rest." Sarah saw a flash of disappointment cross his face. He clearly wasn't ready for the evening to be over and for some reason that made her feel good, because she wasn't seeing the reasons for his want that she had seen in so many other men's eyes. He seemed to genuinely be enjoying her company without pretense or an overriding motive or desire to just get her into the sack. It seemed that he just wanted to be with her, and it was refreshing.

He looked at his watch and frowned. "Yeah, you're probably right. At least I can plan on sleeping in my own bed tonight, thanks to you." He turned beet red when he realized how what he had just said could be misconstrued and stammered, "I mean, well, you know what I mean, I haven't been around here much the last few days, work has been crazy lately, I've been…I wasn't implying…"

"It's okay, Chuck, I know what you meant," she said with a grin, "It's a shame that big four-poster bed doesn't get more use isn't it? And I'm sure your pets miss you. Whatever I can do to help," she added mischievously looking at him from the corner of her eye. She almost wished he would ask her to stay because that would have made what she had to do that much easier, but she knew this man would never be that forward with her, and something was preventing her from even thinking about pulling a seduction routine on him. For some strange reason she found herself looking beyond the mission and more at the consequences of her actions when she was with Chuck.

Much to her delight, Chuck just blushed more furiously and gazed into her eyes with a slackened jaw.

Seeing the internal conflict in his eyes Sarah rose from her chair. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Chuck, I really enjoyed your company. And you have a breathtaking home. Thank you for showing it to me."

"Well, I sincerely hope this isn't your only visit, Sarah," he said, collecting himself as he rose to show her out. "We have to at least work on your movie education, and while I'd like to take you to a proper movie theater, I'm also uniquely equipped for that here at the house," he suggested.

"Yes, I noticed that. I was wondering why you didn't have a TV in your living room."

"I thought you might have seen the home theater when I saw you at the living room door. I have all those Mel Brooks movies on my home theater server harddrives, so one of these days I'm going to make you watch all of them," he warned along with that smile.

"I'll bring the popcorn," she responded soaking up the grin it solicited.

They stepped through the front door and Sarah's senses were once again assaulted by the scent of gardenias as she stepped down to the path to her car. The smell of the flowers alone made her want to come back here, until she looked back up at Chuck when she reached her car and felt the assault on all her other senses as she touched his arm and stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. That simple innocent gesture had a much more profound effect on her than she expected and it was obvious to her that he felt it too. _Why am I taking it slow with him? S_he asked herself.

Chuck opened her door for her, with a pensive look on his face. "I don't mean to sound forward, but where are you staying?"

She regarded him curiously; "I'm at the extended stay hotel in Bakersfield for the time being, why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were somewhere safe and comfortable, that's all," he stammered. "That's a good place. If you take county road 21 to Porterville highway and turn left it's almost a straight shot to your hotel." He bit his lip. "You wouldn't mind trading phone numbers would you?"

"Of course not. Here," she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her leather jacket, "what's your number?"

He told her and she dialed it, causing his back pocket to vibrate, which caused the smile to grow on his face as he pulled his phone from his pocket to touch the receive button. Then he stepped back a step and raised the phone and took her picture before she had time to react. He grinned and turned the display to her. "There, now I have a beautiful face to put with the number." The expression on her face in the picture surprised her, it was actually radiant, and she stifled her planned protest when she saw it.

So Sarah raised her phone and returned the favor causing Chuck to laugh. "Turn about is fair play," she said, turning the phone to him satisfied with the result. He gave her an approving smile.

"Thanks again for a wonderful evening, Chuck," she said as she climbed into her Porsche.

"Anytime, Sarah," he said, closing her car door, "You're always welcome at Casa Bartowski. Have a safe drive back to your room, I'll see you tomorrow."

Sarah drove slowly down the drive thinking about her evening with Chuck. As she drove through the gate onto the county road it suddenly dawned on her just how much her mission had been pushed back into her mind by the very pleasant time she had spent with the man. She realized with a start he had very quickly ceased to be a mark in her mind as he completely captivated her with his disarmingly pleasant and engaging personality. As she thought about him alarm bells started to go off in her mind, the cynical agent side of her warning her that she might be being played by a _very_ smooth operative; then a seldom used more emotional side of her protested back proclaiming that the thought that Chuck Bartowski was a spy was _absurd. _It was apparent Chuck was many things, but a spy was not one of them. She had to get to the bottom of this and soon because much to her surprise her seldom used emotional side was demanding it – and _that_ shook her to the core. She pulled her phone from her pocket and looked again at his picture on the display and as she looked at his easy going smile, captivating brown eyes, and curly locks, she also realized that Chuck Bartowski had become more than just a mission to her.

-V-

Chuck walked back into the home he hadn't been to for a couple of days now because of the heavy workload he had found himself buried under for the past week at his business. He reached down to give his doting cat a pet. "I'm sorry, Mongo, I haven't been around much lately, have I? I don't know what we'd do without Morgan, do you? C'mon, let's go make sure the game server is still working before we knock off for the evening. I don't want the clan to be mad at me because it crashed while I was away."

The cat followed him into his den and jumped onto his lap as he sat down at the executive chair at his desk. He waved the mouse and logged in to his workstation first checking the status of his two game servers that he ran for the Call of Duty and Halo clans that he lead. It looked like his squads were busy fragging opponents mercilessly and for a second he was tempted to join a game until he looked at the clock on the wall and realized that 3:30 in the morning wasn't very far off and he needed some sleep before he climbed back into the cockpit tomorrow.

As an afterthought Chuck decided to look at his personal email account that he hadn't had a chance to check in days. As he watched the email subject headers load he started to regret it because there were a lot of them; then one in particular caught his attention: 'Have You Got Game?' It was from Bryce Larkin. "What the hell?" he exclaimed as he read it. He couldn't believe it. The jerk that he had thought was his best friend and had gotten him kicked out of Annapolis had sent him an email. His cursor briefly hovered over the delete button but his curiosity got the better of him and he opened it.

**Logon to your Halo server and access and join the private game 'The Flood' creating and using the player name 'Master Chief Bartowski' You must use your old default profile from our Academy Halo clan days.**

_**Password hint: In college Bryce was in love with _.  
**_

_Huh? _That was it? What the hell are you up to, Bryce? A private game called 'The Flood' on his own Halo server? How did Bryce do that? Both he and Bryce were computer science and engineering majors at the Naval Academy and that was how they had met and the common ground from which their friendship had been built, but at the moment the idea that Bryce may have hacked his game server kind of pissed him off.

He logged on to his Halo server and sure enough there was the game 'The Flood' with no players in the game. He built his old Academy character profile from a file he still had saved and pulled up the private game login box. Bryce's college love interest? That was his old girlfriend, Jill, the one Bryce had stolen from him after he got him expelled for supposedly cheating on his mid-term tests; but that was too easy, it couldn't have been Jill and somehow it didn't fit the challenge Bryce was presenting to him. Then the light bulb went on. Bryce had to be talking about Cortana, the AI character in Halo. Bryce had always had a thing for her beautiful 'construct' and her sultry voice. In spite of all the animosity he harbored towards Bryce that brought a big smile to his face.

He typed in 'Cortana' in the password box and tapped the Enter key. And turned toward the server stack with a startled look on his face as it sounded like every disk in the RAID arrays on the server spun to life. There was a flash on the center monitor that drew his attention back in front of him and suddenly he was assaulted by thousands of images flashing across all three screens. Mongo jumped from his lap in a panic as Chuck lost control of his eyes and his body subtly twitched in rhythm to the images streaming across the monitors. He sat transfixed by the flashing images for several hours unable to move yet conscious of what was happening to him, his eyes pinned open by muscular contraction he couldn't overcome. Finally the images stopped and Chuck found himself involuntarily tipping back in his chair until he fell on his back on the floor with a thud. As he lost consciousness he softly uttered the words: "I hate you Bryce Larkin"

-VI-

She crouched on one knee dressed in a black tactical uniform outside his home in the darkness of the long shadow of a tree cast by the low moon in the western sky, waiting for him to get up to go to work. At least that was the plan. Sarah had parked a rental car a couple of miles away on the edge of an almond orchard next to a farm reservoir on the property of one of Chuck's neighbors, and then hiked onto Chucks property from there. But it was almost 4:00AM and he still hadn't come out of his home to go to work. She figured he would have already been up and out of the house by now and she had roughly another hour before she would lose her cover of darkness.

Sarah finally lost patience and decided to go into the house. She quietly stepped up onto the front porch and reached into her pocket for her lock pick set but as she grabbed the old bronze doorknob to hold it while she picked the lock it turned freely in her hand – it was unlocked. Either he had forgotten to lock it or that was just the way they did things out in the country. She concluded it was probably the later with a little bit of discomfort. Silently she crept through the living room listening for the sound of any activity but couldn't hear a thing. She was beginning to get concerned when she saw the light on in his den from the hallway, but the bedroom and the rest of the house were still dark. She peaked around the edge of the doorway, and there he was, on his back, laying on the floor still in his upturned chair with his feet sticking up in the air, apparently unconscious. His cat, Mongo, was sitting next to him, staring at him. Her heart leapt into her throat.

_Chuck! _She almost shouted his name out loud as she rushed to his side and checked his carotid pulse near his ear and placed her other hand on his chest. His pulse was strong and steady, his breathing regular. _What happened, Chuck?_ Sarah was frozen for a moment in internal struggle as she tried to decide whether she should try to wake him. If she woke him he would know something was unquestionably amiss and there would be questions she couldn't or wouldn't be able to answer. He seemed peaceful enough despite his awkward position and didn't appear to be suffering from head trauma. Then she looked at his computer monitor and something caught her eye. On the screen in white lettering on a black window was a message…from Bryce!

_**Chuck, **_

_**This was what you were once tested for and showed the greatest promise for of all the candidates tested. You were my last chance to save it. If I hadn't sent it to you it would have been lost, and it's too important. I work for the NSA now, Chuck, and bad people were trying to get their hands on this. I had to destroy the original to keep it out of their hands, but I peer-to-peer transferred it to your server to preserve it. I didn't know who could be trusted with it, except you. You now have the only copy. It's in you, Chuck. Your server drives are now wiped clean. I trust you Chuck, I know you'll know what to do with it, and I know you'll protect it. Before long you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. **_

_**I've arranged for someone to help you. Her name is Sarah and she's a good friend. Trust her Chuck, she'll help you get through this, and oddly enough I know the two of you well enough to think that you were made for each other. You and Sarah share a lot in common. Give her a chance, my friend, even though the two of you have met under false pretenses. She's a good person and one of the best at what she does. **_

_**I hope this will atone in some way for my past transgressions in your life. Things I never wanted to do, but was pressured by others to do supposedly for your benefit. I now think both they and I were wrong. I know I've probably opened a can of worms for you again, but I also know you will make the best of it in the finest tradition of your family. Please don't stay angry with me. I value what we once had that much.**_

_**Your friend always,**_

_**Bryce**_

_Oh, my God, Bryce, what have you done? _ Sarah reread the message dumbfounded. Was Bryce rogue, or was he a double? With who and what was he involved in? Her head was spinning trying to make sense of what was happening. He had sent his friend and former Naval Academy roommate the Intersect. She stepped to the workstation and scanned the drives for the data but it didn't appear to be there. She would have to come back later to double check when Chuck was at work. She palmed her face and paced around for a few seconds and then looked at Chuck, still unconscious on the floor. Was it possible? Had he somehow unwittingly downloaded the Intersect into himself? He was originally an Intersect test candidate? It was the stuff of science fiction and she wasn't sure if she actually believed it, but Bryce had cryptically laid it all out in his message. And he had arranged for her to help? And that part about her and Chuck…she was starting to feel like she was going to have a panic attack.

Then she snapped out of it and came to a swift decision. She pulled a USB thumbdrive from her pocket and plugged it in. She dragged the message from Bryce onto the drive and then deleted it from Chuck's computer, and not without a significant amount of guilt tugging at her heart for doing it. Hopefully she would be able to share it with him later. At least that was what she was telling herself now. Sarah bent down and checked his pulse again and placed her hand on his cheek. Could Chuck trust her? Could she help him? _Are we made for each other? _ Sarah saw the irony in that question when she realized she had started to ask herself if he could be 'the one' almost from the moment she met him. She kissed her fingertips and touched them to his lips and then silently slipped out of his home.

* * *

**A/N **There you are. This chapter sort of sets the scene for what is to follow. Stand by for some John Casey.


	3. Off the Grid

**A/N **8/26/12 - I'm back home from work and still spending half the day in the decompression chamber. This is one of the products of that time listening to the compressor humming and a faint hissing sound. I digress.**  
**

Thanks one and all for your support of this story so far. It has turned out to be an interesting exploration to say the least. I think we'll run with it a bit and see where it leads.

Stop by my profile page for story updates and other info if you're so inclined.

**Don't own it. Thanks to those who do and gave it to us.**

* * *

**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 3 – Off the Grid**

"Chuck!"

It sounded like it came from the end of a tunnel…from right in front of a freight train; that loud thundering headache that was reverberating off of the walls of his skull.

"Chuck. Wake up, buddy."

Ouch! The gentle slap hurt intensely, from the inside out.

"Come on, Chuck, talk to me buddy."

"_Groan…_Morgan?"

"Oh, man. You had me worried there, Charles, I was about to dial 911," exclaimed Morgan with obvious relief in his voice. "What happened? Did you and Sarah enjoy a little too much wine last night?"

"What?" He attempted to push the fog from his aching mind. "Wine? No, I barely had more than a glass. You know how I am this time of the year, strictly energy drinks until things start to slow down a bit."

Morgan crossed his arms with an accusing look, "Yeah, I know, I have to pick up the slack for you in season, it's a cross I'm willing to bear. Care to explain then why you're sleeping on the floor in your upturned chair, or why you're late for work?" Mirth was dancing in his eyes. Morgan was clearly enjoying the moment in spite of his concerns the moment before. He offered his friend a hand to help him to his feet.

Chuck pulled himself up off the floor with Morgan's assistance then righted his chair and stared for a few seconds at his blank computer monitors. "I don't have an explanation, buddy. I decided to check the game servers before going to bed and the next thing I know you're giving me this strange wake up call."

"Whoa, lost time eh? Should we call Mulder and Scully? Maybe have you checked for implants?"

Chuck started to laugh. "Ow," he said raising his hand to his temple, "hold the humor down for a bit, pal. At least until I've had a couple of aspirin and a cup of coffee."

Chuck started to make his way to the kitchen, but turned around before he made it to the door and walked back to his workstation and tapped the space key on his keyboard. "Holy frak! The Halo server crashed! What the hell? It was fine when I checked it last night."

"Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you about that," replied Morgan, scratching the back of his head, "but finding you laid out on the floor sort of distracted me. I've been getting IM's and texts since early last night from the clan wondering what was up. I finally had to turn my phone off so I could get some sleep. The natives are extremely restless, Chuck. I think I hear war drums."

Chuck stared at his monitor in disbelief. "It's gone…just gone…the drives have been wiped clean. I may have to rebuild it from scratch…damn."

"I thought you backed up those servers on the fly?"

"Well, I do back them up, but not on the fly. They're on a schedule, minimal server performance bottlenecks that way." He looked at the clock display on his monitor and his eyes shot to meet those of his friend, "Frak!Frak!Frak! It's six o'clock?"

"Yeah. Not to worry, buddy. Kyle said he was more than happy to pick up the extra acres until you came in. He and the crew are already working on that almond job."

"Crap," said Chuck looking back at his monitor, "I'll have to deal with this snafu later. Duty calls, let's get out to the airport."

"You sure you're okay to fly today buddy? You know, lost time?" Asked Morgan skeptically.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he responded, suddenly energized by the revelation of the late hour, "just give me a couple of cups of strong coffee and I'll be raring to go," Chuck said with an air of false bravado, thumping his fist into his chest like a Romulan Centurion.

"You're the boss."

-II-

She watched Chuck and Morgan walk out of the house and climb into Chuck's pickup truck. A sense of relief washed over her as she watched him walk down the path with a metal travel coffee cup in one hand and a large Stanley thermos in the other. He looked a bit rough, but otherwise like the Chuck she met and fell…the day…before. _What? What is going on with you, Sarah Walker! _ She asked herself. _You just met this man yesterday! What are you thinking? You barely know him! He's your mark! _

Sarah reflected on her own roiling emotions for a moment as she watched the truck drive down the gravel road away from Chuck's house. Chuck appeared to be all right, but something huge had happened to him last night and she couldn't deny it. She couldn't deny that something huge had also happened to her; something she honestly didn't think she was even capable of anymore – forming a genuine attachment to someone – and it terrified her with a new kind of fear she had never experienced or really learned to counteract before other than the mantras she had learned to repeat to herself at the Farm. And then another fear raised its ugly head in her mind; the fear that whatever had happened to Chuck last night might suddenly and very negatively alter whatever she had fallen onto between the two of them. If Chuck was once an innocent party in all this, Bryce had now changed that, possibly irrevocably. Thinking of what Bryce had done angered her in ways she was still trying to grasp the meaning of. Somehow Bryce had had a hand in her assignment to this case. And somehow he knew that she and Chuck would hit it off immediately. Did Bryce know her that well? Sure, they had a thing going in Spain, and they had shared a lot, including a bed on more than one night. But had she let Bryce in enough to see who or what her heart was looking for in her life? How did he know she even had any such a longing when she could hardly see it herself because she had buried it so deep for so long? And why didn't Bryce try to fill that need if and when he discovered it? She had felt something for him, and she couldn't deny that either, but nothing like what she had so swiftly experienced with Chuck. There were so many more questions than there were answers. All she knew at the moment was that Bryce had once again placed his friend Chuck on the hot seat, and by extension, her too; and she was now going to have to somehow make the best of it.

She stepped out from behind the rickety old garage and walked up the path to the house that Chuck Bartowski had inherited from his father. The thought made her stop in her tracks and turn around looking at all of it around her. Chuck's family had left him a wonderful legacy, and now that legacy was in dire risk of being destroyed by a computer filled with government secrets; secrets that if what Bryce alluded to in his note were now in Chucks head, they could make him disappear forever at the hands of a government that would do anything to keep them that way. What was she to do with this? How was she going to protect Chuck from the very people she worked for? Maybe some answers were in this house. Sarah picked a gardenia from the bush by the path and breathed in its succulent scent, then stepped up onto the porch with a new sense of purpose bolstered by the sweet aroma of the flower in her hand. And, of course, she wasn't surprised to find the door unlocked.

-III-

"What have you found, Agent Walker? Is Charles Bartowski involved with this untidy mess that Bryce Larkin created?" The look on Langston Graham's face on her laptop screen was also asking another unspoken question. Will Chuck Bartowski have to be terminated, and if so, have you already done it?

"Sir, as of yet I haven't been able to find any Intersect data on any of Chu- Mr. Bartowski's computers. If he is involved in this, it must be in another way we may not have yet considered," she deflected, "I think I'm going to need a few more days here to try to determine to just what level Charles Bartowski has been compromised by Agent Larkin." The word 'compromised' forced her to fight down a very unexpected flush rising up her neck.

"I can't give you any more time, Sarah, I want you back in L.A. and on a plane by the end of the day. The NSA has assigned Casey to this case. I don't want one of my best agents anywhere near Major Casey when he shows up there. I don't think he would give a damn about collateral damage, and he's definitely not a friend of the CIA."

"Casey? He's a burnout. We haven't even been able to determine what Chuck Bartowski really knows yet, let alone if he is actually involved. Casey is likely to shoot first and never even think about asking a question later. Doesn't a possibly innocent American citizen deserve better than that? Than the due process of John Casey's limited judgment and unthinking trigger finger?"

"Casey's a killer, Sarah, cold school. Bryce is one of theirs. Let them handle it now. It's over."

She leaned toward the monitor attempting to school her features, "I can fix this. Just give me twenty-four hours, and maybe an innocent civilian won't get killed, otherwise if he's not innocent…" she said heatedly, then trailed off.

Graham regarded her sternly but a flash of curiosity briefly crossed his face. "All right, you've got twenty-four hours to try to get something," he said with an exasperated tone, "but if you even smell John Casey I want you out of there, do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, sir."

"Good."

The screen went blank and Sarah leaned back in her chair and exhaled forcibly. John Casey? Damn. Chuck was in trouble and she _had _to do something about it. Her search of Chuck's computer had revealed that Bryce had indeed wiped the drives containing the Intersect. There wasn't a shred of recoverable data on them. Whatever Bryce had done to accomplish his goals had been very clever, which didn't surprise her knowing his background. She did find the copy of Bryce's original email to Chuck and decided to save it to her thumbdrive and delete the original like she had done to Bryce's other message. For now she didn't want to let them fall into either the CIA's or NSA's hands and felt the need to control the information, though she didn't really know why. A search of the house hadn't revealed anything else, but she had to admit she was very surprised by what she found behind the vault door. The small room beyond it was an armory complete with an extensive collection of firearms, ammunition, and maintenance and ammunition reloading benches. If she hadn't been privy to Chuck's family background she would have been much more suspicious, but she had a feeling that the room had been built there by the elder Bartowski's and not Chuck. The room displayed the wear marks of years of use. Still, she was surprised by the variety and scope of the weaponry and couldn't help but wonder if Chuck might be skillful at using any of them. The surprises never seemed to stop with this man and she also wondered what was yet to be discovered about him or whether he may still shock her with something truly unsettling about him.

Sarah set the thought from her mind deciding she had twenty-four hours to find out. She pulled a legal pad and a pencil from her laptop case and started to make a shopping list.

-IV-

"Man, you couldn't ask for better air than we had today, huh, Chuck?"

Chuck snapped back into the present and looked at Kyle Pruitt stretched lazily in the recliner chair across the room from him. "Yeah it was pretty darn nice out there. Sorry I was late this morning."

Kyle grinned back at him, "Hell, don't worry about it, pard, it just meant more acres for your chief pilot," he chuckled, "and more acres means a bigger check for little ole me, cha-ching!"

"Like I said, sorry I was late."

"Haha, I'll let you pay me in installments if it'll help," Kyle quipped, then regarded him more thoughtfully. "Where you been hiding that amazing mind of yours all morning, Chuck? It's not like you to be lost in thought like that. Something to do with that hot blonde maybe?"

"Her name is Sarah," Chuck replied with a slight edge, "and yeah, she's got me a little preoccupied. Sorry about that."

"No worries, pard. It's the sort of preoccupation we've all been hoping you'd rediscover at some point. You've still got your head in the game, I hope."

"Oh, yeah, that's not a problem. I'll keep my priorities straight when I'm flying."

"Good, didn't think I had to worry about that, but I had to ask. As long as you can still hear 'the voice'."

"Yeah," Chuck said with a snort, "it's still loud and clear."

"What's 'the voice' telling you about Sarah?" Kyle asked with an even smile.

Chuck pursed his lips thinking about a response to that one when there was a knock at the office door and Sarah opened it to look in. "Anyone home?" She asked lightly.

Chuck's face immediately brightened even more than it already was, "Hey, Sarah. You got here just in time to save me from the inquisition." He looked at Kyle who was grinning ear-to-ear, "Meet Kyle, he's the designated snoop and smart-ass around here."

"Hey, I resemble that remark," retorted Kyle Pruitt as he rose from the chair to greet Sarah and shake her hand. "Wow, firm," he commented on her grip, "Nice to meet you Sarah. Sorry I ran off on ya'll yesterday, but I was fixin' to explode when you saw me."

"TMI, Kyle," Chuck warned.

"Nice to meet you too, Kyle," Sarah said with a friendly giggle, "I suppose that's one of the drawbacks of the job, isn't it?"

He smiled back at her, "It can be, just ask ole Chuck about that, he can provide the details."

Chuck winced, "Too much coffee this morning, it almost led to a painful accident," was all he would offer in response giving her an apologetic look. "Can we please talk about something else, Kyle?" He pleaded.

"Okay, Chuck, new subject. So, Sarah, just what are your intentions with my good buddy, Chuck, here?"

"Kyyyle!"

Sarah let out a short laugh as her eyes locked on Chuck's with a playful blue invitation, "Well, Kyle, your good buddy here invited me on a picnic with the 'mistress' this afternoon. I guess we'll see where it goes from there."

"Well! You've met the mistress already, eh?" Surprise was written all over Kyle Pruitt's face, "Bold move Chuck, sharing the other women in your life so soon in a new relationship."

Chuck's jaw dropped and he turned bright red as he looked back and forth from Sarah to Kyle. He saw an ever so subtle reaction from Sarah at Kyle's mention of the word 'relationship' but she hid it well. "Time for you to go Kyle, before you give me a case of hypertension."

"Aw, shucks, Chuck, I was just gettin' started."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"I'll tell you what, Chuck," Sarah interjected, "Why don't we go ahead and take off and leave Kyle to his burning curiosity here while you, me, and the mistress enjoy our afternoon?"

"Oh, I like this one, Chuck, she can dish it too," said Kyle with a laugh, "She's going to fit in fine around here."

Sarah walked over to Chuck and took his hand, "C'mon, sport, pick your jaw up off the floor and let's go, our afternoon is slipping by."

Chuck stared at her with incredulity as she led him to the door.

"Have fun, you two, don't do anything that I wouldn't do…that grants you considerable leeway," Kyle added with a raised voice as they went out the door.

"Nice to meet you, Kyle," Sarah shouted back as they walked briskly across the deck to her car.

-V-

As they stepped up to Sarah's Porsche she pointed to a soft-sided cooler bag in the back seat of the car. "I took the liberty of packing us a lunch this morning. I hope that's okay with you."

She watched the smile spread across Chuck's face as the shock of the banter with his friend wore off. "You're really excited about this, aren't you?" He asked, seeing it in her eyes.

"Yeah, I am," the excitement showing even more as she rose up onto her toes, "I've been thinking about it ever since you showed me the Cub last night."

"Well then we better not keep you waiting another second. I gave Morgan a ride this morning so I'll go with you and leave him my truck if that's all right with you."

"That sounds great," responded Sarah already anticipating it, "It gives us more time to talk, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it does. I'll send him a text to let him know."

As they drove down the road to the Casa, Sarah noticed Chuck taking several peeks at her from the corner of his eye when they weren't making small talk. She smiled inwardly at his attempt to study her on the sly, and then their eyes met briefly before looking once again out to the road ahead.

"So how was the interview this morning?" Chuck asked, now looking directly at her.

"It went well," she lied, glancing at him. "They didn't offer the job to me today, but I should have an answer in a day or so." The CIA had arranged for her to actually have the corporate pilot job as a cover if the need arose but Sarah hoped it didn't have to come to that. Originally because she hoped this assignment would be short, but now she was hoping for a different cover job in its place. "But we can talk about that later. Where are we going in the mistress today?" She asked the question like a child wanting to know what was in a wrapped gift before she even tore the bow and paper off.

"Well, it's a surprise. Did you happen to bring a jacket? It might be a little cool." He found something endearing about the way Sarah was now referring to the Cub as 'the mistress'.

She looked at him with unmasked curiosity, "I have my leather jacket, will that be enough?"

"Probably. But we'll throw Ellie's barn coat in the plane just in case. It should fit you."

They pulled up in front of the house and Chuck jumped from the car, opened Sarah's door for her, and then walked briskly onto the porch. "Just one minute while I grab a few things we'll need," he said as he walked to the front door. She followed him through the door and waited by the couch for him as he walked down the hall toward the bedroom wing. He came back a minute later wearing a heavy long sleeved cotton shirt and carrying two coats under his arm. He looked at her as if sizing her up and held out a dark brown heavy cotton canvas barn coat with a leather collar. "Here, try this on for size," he said, holding the coat open for her as she shrugged it on. It was a tad large for her, but felt like it would be cozy and warm.

Sarah watched Chuck step back looking at her in Ellie's barn coat. She was stunned by the look of absolute affection in his eyes as he admired her in the bulky garment. "Oh, jeepers," he exclaimed, "you make one fantastic looking farm girl; and I see you even wore the right footwear," he added looking at her leather hiking boots. She couldn't help but smile and pose a bit at his proclamation.

He looked thoughtfully at her for another moment. "Give me one more minute, I just need to grab a couple more things." And he disappeared into the den. After a couple of seconds she started to shrug the coat off, "Hey, Sarah, come on back here for a minute," he said cryptically.

Sarah walked back into the den just in time to see him swing the vault door open. "In the interest of full disclosure. I figured you must have seen this last night if you looked in here. Please don't freak out," he said pensively.

Sarah was taken aback by the display, but not the contents of the room he was showing her. She was more surprised by his concern about her possible reaction to it. "Wow. This is really something," she said looking in. "I have a few friends who would be extremely jealous of this room," she said very truthfully; she wanted to laugh out loud so much, because it was so true.

He let out another one of those sighs of relief she had already heard more than once. "I was afraid you might walk out the front door and never return after you saw this."

"Well, it is pretty amazing in a sort of intimidating way," she grinned, "but why would I walk out because of this? Weren't you the one who mentioned something about family traditions?"

"Well…yeah, but you have to admit, some people might think this is a little bit over the top…"

"It doesn't surprise me all that much Chuck, I've seen similar rooms before, and you do live on a farm. Did your father build this room?"

"Yeah, actually Dad and Gramps…after a wild planning session fueled by beer," he said brightening, "and there are five generations of firearms in this room, including a few that belong to Ellie and my Mom."

"Well, don't worry Chuck. I'm not going to run out the front door screaming."

"Oh, good. I'm so relieved. I actually came back here to get something," he said, as he opened a cabinet door and pulled two daypacks and a couple of aluminum tubes about two feet long with screw caps on the top of them from the shelves inside. Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a Smith & Wesson revolver in a leather holster and a couple of leather pouches holding speed loaders and tucked them into one of the packs. Sarah recognized the pistol as a model 329PD .44 magnum. It was a popular model with Alaskan bush pilots because of the lightweight scandium frame and titanium cylinder.

He handed the aluminum tubes to Sarah. "Would you mind carrying these?"

"No, not at all. What's in them?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Pack rods," he replied, and then smiled at her continued look of confusion. "Fishing poles that break down into multiple sections so they will fit into a backpack," he explained further.

"Oh. We're going fishing?" She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Maybe," he grinned back. "It depends on whether the river is still frozen over."

"W-What?" She asked incredulously.

He laughed as he picked up the packs and turned out the lights before closing the vault door and spinning the door bolts into place. "C'mon, our afternoon is slipping by."

-VI-

They pushed the Supercub out of the doors on the south side of the barn into a grassy area with a large double gate that led to the alfalfa field to the west of the barn. It was then that Sarah noticed that a section of the alfalfa had been kept mowed short to allow it to be used as a landing strip. The mowed section was fairly short, less than a thousand feet long. As they walked around the airplane to get in, Sarah started to move toward the back seat but Chuck gently took hold of her arm and pointed to the front, "You go ahead and sit up front, I can fly it from the back if I want to."

She couldn't contain the surprise on her face, "Are you sure? It's been a while since I've flown one of these, and I've never flown one with giant tires like this one has."

He waved his hand dismissively, "You'll be fine. Besides, the view is better up there," he quipped.

"Well…okay." She tentatively climbed into the front seat and Chuck gave her a quick review of the start routine and engine controls since there was only a throttle, stick, and rudder pedals in the back seat. Then he climbed into the back seat behind her.

He gave her a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder, "Don't worry, you'll be fine," he repeated, "and I'll do the first takeoff and landing today, which you can follow along on if you want." He pointed to a headset hanging from the overhead tubing and had her turn the master switch, the radio, and the intercom on.

"O.K. By the numbers; let's start her up."

Sarah advanced the mixture, set the mag switch, and pushed the starter button on the panel and gave the throttle a couple of pumps as the engine cranked and then shook to life at an idle. "That's not even a normal Supercub engine, is it?" she asked, realizing by the sound of the engine that there were probably more than the normal 150hp under the cowl.

"No that's a 180 horse engine, and it's been blue-printed. It probably makes closer to 200 actual horsepower."

"This is going to be interesting," she stated flatly looking over her shoulder at him wide-eyed.

"Yeah," he gave her the Bartowski smile, "hold onto your hat."

"I would if I was wearing one," she laughed.

"We'll have to fix that won't we? I have a Flying 'B' Aviation cap that's just begging to have a blonde pony tail threaded through the back of it."

She turned further to him and gave him a huge smile, which he returned in kind.

"Okay, let's take her on the dance floor. Turn her around a couple of times to get a feel for the ground handling and the heel brakes and then I'll take us out of here. We'll leave the door open, okay?"

Sarah nodded then let out a breath and advanced the throttle a bit to get the plane moving and then spun it around 360 degrees pivoting on one wheel, then did it the opposite direction pivoting on the other wheel. Then she got it moving forward and turned around in the grassy area several times. Looking out the front of the plane was difficult because of the high deck angle caused by the large bushwheels and the extended landing gear. She was forced to guide the plane on the ground using 'S' turns and looking out the edge of the windscreen and the side windows. She couldn't begin to imagine how bad the view must be from the back seat for Chuck.

But he tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a big thumbs up with a grin when she stopped the plane to look at him. "That was great! You're a natural!" He exclaimed enthusiastically. "Okay, go ahead and do a short run up."

Sarah advanced the throttle to 1700 rpm's and checked both magnetos.

"All right, she sounds good. My plane," he said shaking the stick in her hand to signal the handoff when she was done.

Chuck took the controls and advanced the throttle briskly taxiing out through the open gate into the alfalfa field where he gave the plane a quick pirouette looking around at the sky around the farm. "When I tell you, pull on one notch of flaps, okay?"

She answered with a nod of her head and he lined up with the 'runway' towards the west and smoothly advanced the throttle causing the plane to briskly accelerate and the tail to lift after only a few feet of takeoff roll. It seemed like the Super Cub had barely rolled a hundred feet when Chuck said, "Okay…flaps…now," and she pulled up on the Johnson bar one notch. Chuck pulled back on the stick, the tail dropped, and the plane sprung from the ground like a spring and climbed quickly into the air. After a couple of seconds Chuck rolled smartly into a turn back to the east over the trees along the creek and started to follow the creek drainage up into the hills.

He shook the stick again and said, "Your plane," verifying by feel that her hands were on the controls and that she had nodded affirmative to his statement.

He didn't let go completely until she said, "My plane," and she gave the stick a firm shake and retracted the flaps. "Wow, Chuck, that was incredible! This thing really goes!"

"Yeah, this bikini babe really knows how to shake it, doesn't she?" He said with mirth in his voice.

Sarah looked over her shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow, "That was rather graphic," she commented with a hint of what, jealousy?

Chuck blanched at her reaction, "Sorry, sometimes I get a little carried away when I'm in this…thing," he said, thinking better of using anything gender specific to describe the airplane.

Sarah chuckled, and looked forward towards the Sierra Nevada Mountains in front of them, "Relax Chuck, I think I'm beginning to understand why she's named 'the mistress'." She looked around at the increasingly hostile terrain around them, "Just where are we going, anyway?"

"Just keep her on roughly a heading of zero-four-zero, but you can deviate to sightsee if you want, I'll give you some directions when we're closer and let you know when we're almost there."

Sarah looked back over her shoulder at him in puzzlement. "Okaaay," she said as she took in the view of the mountains around her. As they flew along Chuck pointed out some of the landmarks to her. They flew over Glenville, and the old Woody stagecoach road and the famous Granite station stagecoach stop. Chuck pointed to a large lake off to their right, "That's Lake Isabella," he stated, and then pointed to the river feeding into it from the left. "That's the Kern River, where that trout we ate last night was caught. That's also where Captain Awesome likes to white water kayak and raft. He also likes to rock climb on those crags over there, they're called The Needles," he said pointing to some granite spires rising from the mountain landscape on the ridge above the river.

"Who is Captain Awesome, and how did he ever get that name?" Her tone was one of suspended belief.

"Captain Awesome is Ellie's boyfriend, Devon. We call him that because everything he does is awesome; kayaking, white water rafting, rock climbing, mountain biking, off–road racing, flossing…the list is longer than my arm. Oh, and did I mention he's a neurosurgeon?"

Sarah laughed at his description, "It sounds like Devon is a fun guy to be around. I hope I get to meet him."

'I hope so too, because if you meet him you also get to meet my sister. It's a two-for-one bonus. Ellie is pretty awesome too, and I'd like you to meet her."

"Well, I'd like to meet her too." Sarah pondered that statement for a moment. She suspected that meeting Ellie might be something like being introduced to the parents if Chuck's parents had still been around. Then she thought where they were at the moment having this odd over-the-shoulder conversation as she climbed the airplane over the rising Sierra Nevada Mountains. The terrain below was now alternating between patches of green and white lit by the afternoon sun from the southwest. The sun was behind them painting the picture in front of them in bold relief as it reflected off a meandering ribbon of water at their twelve 'o clock in a large valley surrounded by very rugged looking mountains with the afternoon lit Owens Valley and the White Mountains in the background.

"HA! You nailed it!" Chuck pointed down through the open right-side window at the creek bed below singling out a relatively straight gravel bar and motioning south to north with his leather gloved hand. Sarah rolled the airplane into a turn around the makeshift runway along side the river bank. She looked curiously at his gloved hand and her eyes followed his arm back up to his muscular shoulder and to his face now framed by his upturned shirt collar and an insulated corduroy John Deere ball cap now crowning his head under the headset with those lovable brown curls poking out everywhere.

"It gets a little chilly back here when the door is open, at this altitude, this time of year," he said from behind that adorably sheepish smile. He was holding a pair of those one-size-fits-all super-expando-fuzzy gloves in his other hand near her cheek. He brushed the fuzzy softness against her neck, "Aw, c'mon, you know you want them, fuzzy warmth."

She reached to grab the gloves from him when she caught a rather dramatic change in Chuck's expression as he looked beyond her out the front windscreen, "Wow, you are in fact a natural," he said, with a touch of awe as he tilted his head to one side entranced by the sight, "how do you do that?"

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

"That!" he waved his arm towards the front of the plane "That, you know, that. You're doing it now, you show off! Not many can groove a turn like that and not have to keep an eye on it. Very impressive, Sarah Walker, I hope you only share that with people you trust. "

Sarah watched as Chuck's gaze came back into the cockpit and settled on her eyes with that corny crooked grin on his face. She could feel her concentration slipping as he winked at her playfully and his hazel eyes reached into her, and his grin broadened as she snatched the gloves from his hand and turned her attention back out the front of the plane. _Damn! How did he do that? So quickly? _ Then she turned to see his gloved hand resting once again on her shoulder and she smiled again through pursed lips as his other hand pointed down at the creek below.

"I've got the plane," he said with a hint of amusement, shaking the stick, "Go ahead and put those gloves on while I reconnoiter the picnic grounds."

"Your plane," Sarah acknowledged as she quickly wriggled her fingers into the gloves and then returned her attention back outside the Super Cub as Chuck turned upstream and followed the bend flying only a few feet over the gravel bar he had been pointing at a moment before. It looked like it was only a couple of a hundred feet long but it adjoined a grassy part of the creek embankment that looked like it was ready made for a picnic. She sneaked a quick peek at him over her shoulder as his eyes tracked, sharply focused on a spot on the ground and he made a subtle change in pitch and power as they circled back around. She could see what he was thinking as he manipulated the controls and she reached for the flap handle, pulling in a notch of flaps as he settled on a low final approach to the sand bar along the rivers edge.

Their eyes met briefly, "Follow along with me on this," said Chuck, "I want to show you something." Sarah turned quickly with her attention once again up front, mostly, and placed her hands and feet on the controls. "Okay, pull out the rest of the boards and dump them when we're stopped," he said.

Sarah pulled on the last two notches of flaps as requested and felt the Cub settle into ground effect over the creek and slow more as Chuck brought in more power and the 31" Alaskan Bushwheels touched the water and started to hydroplane about seventy-five feet out from the edge of the gravel bar, spraying water out to the side as they slid along the top of the water. "Feel that? Push into it a bit, then add power to hold her there, then focus on the edge and let the energy bleed, slowly," the airplane rolled off the water onto the gravel bar with a splash and then rolled slowly across the bar to turn and come to a stop tailed in toward the shore of the 'river.' Sarah looked down at her hand on the Johnson bar, realizing she had, indeed, dumped the flaps as requested.

"All right! Sweet. That's how we do it. Very refreshing. Welcome to Monache," exclaimed Chuck, "I'm dying to see what you packed in that picnic basket you put together, hopefully a towel," he added with a laugh.

"Oh?…HA!" She turned to see a reasonably well-soaked Chuck with water dripping off the bill of his cap. She, herself, was mostly dry.

"Another advantage about the front seat when the wheels get wet," he quipped, "I stayed dry here until the last second when we rolled onto the bar. Wasn't sure if you noticed, we were starting to break through a bit there. Adding 'Door Closed' to the before gravel bar landing checklist." He looked over her shoulder toward the panel as he started to unfasten his five-point seat belt harness, "You can go ahead and shut her down."

Sarah pulled the mixture knob back to 'full lean', then unfastened her harness and looked around the airplane as the propeller came to a stop, then she switched the mags off. "_This _is your picnic spot?"

Chuck ended the struggle with his shoulder harness for a second and slumped back into his seat, "What? You don't like the picnic grounds?" His brown eyes took on the hyper-intensity of a Disney cartoon character. "I have others," he added earnestly, "wasn't sure if you were ready for the swimmin' hole yet, but it _is_ warmer there…the water's kind of cold right now…" He was now looking at her from the corner of his gleaming eye and hiding a hint of a boyish grin.

"No…what, are you kidding? I love your picnic spot," _and that landing was amazing!_ She turned around with her knees on the seat and leaning over the back grabbed his wet shirt looking him straight in the eye, "This place is beautiful!" _You have more of them? _Sarah pulled off her headset and listened to the sound of the water flowing around the gravel bar and the breeze in the grass at the edge of the creek, then looked around at the snow patched mountain vista surrounding them beneath a dazzlingly blue sky before her eyes latched onto his, "But I'd still like to see the others sometime. Why do I get the feeling they're extraordinary, too."

"That could be arranged. I know the tour operator. Extraordinary is kind of his thing."

"Yeah, it would appear. A swimming hole, huh?" She unclenched his fisted shirt and smoothed the wet fabric against his chest, watching it lay out under her hand, "That opens up a whole new line of awkward wardrobe questions, doesn't it?" She asked as she locked her eyes on his.

"Not this one, swimwear is optional…actually lovingly forbidden, there's a sign and everything," Chuck shrugged as he watched her gaze bore into him from behind eyes of intense, liquid, blue flame. "Like I said, wasn't sure if either of us was ready for the swimmin' hole yet…" he added, with a snerk

_Smart move, Chuck, not actually going there, but I might have been ready to take the plunge._ "You are evil, Chuck Bartowski. Now I'm going to be thinking about your secret skinny dipping spot until the day you finally take me there."

Sarah watched with amusement as the color marched up Chuck's neck. "Oh. Let me think for a moment whether that's actually a bad thing or not." He had a far-away look in his eye as he brought two fingers to his temple.

"Hey!" She swatted his chest with her hand, "Not fair, get your mind out of the swimmin' hole this instant, I can't picture it the way you probably can!" Sarah almost burst out in laughter when she saw the sudden look of guilt on his face. "I don't even want to know, do I?" She asked simply.

He shrugged and looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, as if reviewing his experience of the last several hours, maybe the last two days, "So far, I would share 100% of my thoughts with you…even the scarier ones."

Sarah peered at him biting her lower lip, her mind suddenly flooded with thoughts and memories she didn't want to share with _anyone…_up to this point in her life. Then there were the thoughts she found herself thinking of this man in front of her. They made her want to grab a roll of mental crime scene tape.

Chuck watched the edges of her eyes soften, the blue pools of flame darkened, revealing her mind had gone to a possibly troubling place, "Uh, Sarah? You okay?"

She shook her head almost imperceptibly and gazed at him, "I'm fine Chuck. That was a pretty heady thing you said there about sharing all your thoughts."

He grinned back at her, "I didn't say my head was rated 'G', only that I'd even share the embarrassing stuff and the 'X' rated stuff too – the rated 'X' stuff is mostly soft porn…" He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes as his face turned scarlet. "…And Chuck kills the moment while stepping on his own cerebellum."

She returned his grin even though he was hiding from it and studied him as he hid under his hat bill; then she reached over the seat to pull his hat bill even further down and started to breath again. "I think I need to get out of the plane for a little while, Chuck, it's getting a little warm in here…and we have a picnic." Sarah started to climb out of the plane bumping her head in the process.

Chuck peeked at the outside air temperature gauge and noted it said sixty-one and he was feeling a little wet and chilly as he started to extricate his soggy body from the back seat of the plane.

-VII-

Sarah was placing a slice of marinated mozzarella on a lavosh cracker thinking how much easier it would have been with one of the very sharp knives in her ankle scabbard as opposed to the pathetic one she was using that came with the picnic bag. She could feel Chuck's eyes on her as she purposefully concentrated on her task.

Chuck was watching her mouth move as she slid the slice of cheese onto the cracker. He smiled around a bite of chicken salad on a small slice of pumpernickel bread as the corners of her mouth turned up and she bit into the cracker, the grin getting even bigger when she saw him watching her so closely. "This is some spread you put together here. You're a very talented picnic packer," he said, breaking the short silence.

She looked reflective and giggled around a mouthful of cracker and cheese, "I had help. When I told two of the girls at Trader Joe's what we were doing things got a little out of control, as you can see," she answered, gesturing to the large arrangement of food between them on the blanket.

He took a sip of his bottled mineral water; "Well, this is all terrific; now you're spoiling _me. _I think we have enough here to stay overnight if we're so inclined, maybe two. We could even catch some fish," he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

She looked around at the broad expanse of wilderness around them and then at him in his now drying and very well fitting work shirt and her eyes narrowed. Clearly she hadn't given enough thought to the different directions her day could go and the revelation startled her. "Overnight? Out here?"

"Too much open space for you out here, Sarah Walker?" He gave her that one sided grin looking at her from the corner of his eye and softly chuckled, "Relax, I was only kidding, it wouldn't be proper. Besides, everyone thinks we're just gone for the afternoon and there's no way we could tell them otherwise, and it's supposed to be well below freezing up here tonight, and there's only one survival sleeping bag…so it would get a little cozy…"

"Do all conversational roads with you eventually ramble into compromising positions, Chuck Bartowski?" Sarah could feel the air warming around her and her calm slipping.

He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully averting his gaze, "It would appear so…this is a recent development…and only with my current company…" He reached into the picnic bag with deliberation, "…I'm curious where these odd events and unusual conversations might be leading." He held up a pair of containers and gave her that lopsided grin, "Yogurt?"

She looked back at him goggle-eyed as she accepted the carton of yogurt and started to peel back the lid, then stopped, "No way we could tell them otherwise? What do you mean? Why?" Sarah asked as she was struck by a sudden realization.

He pulled his new smartphone from his shirt pocket and held the display up where she could see it, "We're in an electronic black hole here, no cell reception for miles, and forget about watching Monday Night Football unless you've got a satellite receiver." He saw the expression on her face flash briefly to one of alarm. "Sarah, everything okay?"

_Damn it! How did I let him do that? _"Uh, yeah, Chuck, I'm fine. Hand me a spoon, please?" _Off the grid! And I never noticed…and he's picking up my tells!_

"Oh, right…a spoon…I know we have a couple here somewhere, I saw them earlier" he said, looking around inside the picnic bag. "Oh, wait a second, I know where a couple are, plus I have something for you, hang on," he said as he sprang to his feet and walked to the plane.

Sarah pulled the arm of her jacket down a bit to cover her watch more, "Oh, Chuck? Would you mind grabbing Ellie's coat for me? It is getting a little chilly out here." She lifted her jacket sleeve briefly to look at the face of her watch and then pulled her more modest looking CIA issue phone from her pocket to look at it. No service, not even the government encrypted network. At least the watch was still talking to the satellite.

"A coat? Sure thing. Uno momento." Chuck walked back from the plane carrying both coats, one of the daypacks, and the two fishing pole tubes. He plopped the pack down on the blanket between the two of them as he sat back down and handed her one of the coats, which she immediately pulled on. He reached into the pack pocket and pulled out two plastic spoons, "TaDa!" He said as his eyes fell on her in the barn coat and he sighed, "Oh, wow, you've got a real cool westerny sci-fi thing going on with that leather jacket of yours and that barncoat. It has kind of a 'Firefly' kind of look going on…very sexy…in a wild westerny sci-fi kind of way…"

She looked down the front of her garments and back at him and grinned at him as she felt her 'off grid' concerns pushed back a bit by his innocent but flirtatious banter. "I'll assume that 'Firefly' is another one of those movies or TV shows I haven't seen." She finished opening the yogurt and took a bite of it with the spoon Chuck had provided.

He gazed back at her with morbid curiosity. "I hope your calendar is clear for the foreseeable future."

"I guess that depends on how much free time you're going to give the both of us at work," she said, as she spooned some yogurt and then looked at him with an appraising smile.

"So you think you'd rather fly a crop duster than a Gulfstream Four?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I would." _Why are you doing this, Sarah Walker?!_

"Well, okay then. I guess that gives this gift special meaning." He reached into the pack and handed her a Flying B Aviation ball cap. "Welcome aboard, Sarah Walker," he said a little flatly. His face quickly became a little pensive as he reached down to unscrew the top of one of the fishing pole tubes and busied himself assembling the pole. Pensiveness was starting to show a little as distress.

Sarah watched the sudden change in his demeanor, "Thanks, but now it's my turn to ask, Chuck, is everything okay? That's a bit of an odd reaction, especially considering you just hired a pilot who can fly a plane facing backwards." She wove her ponytail through the back of the cap and pulled the cap on, adjusting the bill a bit at the edges with a flourish of her fingertips.

Still absorbed in his task he smiled at her comment, "Yeah, I'm sorry, everything's great. I'm excited about you working with us. It's just…it's really, nothing…" His eyes lit up when he looked up and saw her wearing his company cap.

And it hit her as she looked at him. He had just hired her. And he had been raised with a more traditional sense of propriety – one that might not allow him to become involved with an employee or a co-worker. And then it hit her like a one-two punch that this man sitting with her on a picnic blanket might be battling with some of the same emotions she was, but conflicted for different reasons…or were they really that different? "Chuck, look…if you think having me work for you might be a problem because…we…"

"Sarah…it's okay. We're both adults and I think we're both on the same page. I've learned over the years to be flexible about what life throws at me from one day to the next." He bumped fists with her and smiled. "Semper Gumby."

_Oh, my, gosh._ "Always Flexible? Is that your motto? HaHa."

He scrunched up his nose and grinned back, "My motto? No. Well, not exclusively at least, there are others to fit the situation…and our family has had more than its fair share of situations," He flashed that crooked grin, "so there are more than a few different mottos. I like the hat on you, by the way," he added pointing at her head as he started to stand up holding two flyrods in front of him.

Sarah looked at the fishing poles and climbed back onto her knees at the edge of the blanket waving her palms in front of her, "Oh, no, no, no, no…"

"That's definitely not one of the motto's." Chuck tilted his head to one side and gave her the 'Disney eyes' again, "C'mon, you'll have fun." Then he flexed the poles against the ground and looked at her with the pleading eyes, "Semper Gumby?"

-VIII-

They wandered up and down the meandering alpine river for almost three hours. Chuck showed Sarah how to sneak up on the native golden trout and roll cast a dry fly into the calm waters under the embankments. They caught several of the striking looking fish and Chuck taught her how to identify them and how to safely unhook and release them back into the river. Sarah found that Chuck was right again and she was having fun. She found herself sneaking up to the edge of the river to peak in looking for bigger fish to catch. Then there was that moment when Chuck was showing her how to roll cast. It had been sublime, almost like a dance as he stood closely behind her at the edge of the water shadowing the motion of the cast for her for several minutes. And then they had sat on the grassy edge of the riverbank just talking. Chuck was asking probing questions about her and her past and she was deflecting most of them while sneaking a seemingly innocuous question into the conversation here and there and comparing his answers to what she knew of him from his file. She was gazing into the water at the rivers edge thinking about it, and the fact that time was slipping away from her, when she heard him walk up behind her. "I know, we need to think about getting going, don't we?" She asked wistfully, still peering into the cold, clear waters.

"In a bit," he admitted, taking her pole for her as she looked from the clear but placid water of the river up to his eyes. "I have reflectors on the strip at the Casa, or we could always fly into Wasco and grab a company truck, but we need light to fly off that gravel bar," he said pointing at the thin strip of rocky sand and the Cub parked on it. "We've been here longer than I thought we would."

"I like this place," Sarah said, looking at the airplane and then the view around them ending with the sun perched low on the southwestern ridges surrounded by high clouds.

"Yeah, it's going to be a beauty, isn't it?" Chuck said, standing so close she could feel his breath on her neck. "That'll be a sunset that will make you a lifetime member."

Sarah just smiled and nodded. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders as they looked at the scene and felt the cool breeze on their faces. She noticed herself leaning back into him and it felt... "There is one thing I wanted to do before we go, though," he said cryptically, "and it would probably be good with a sunset."

She turned around to face him, which just happened to find them together in a loose embrace as he caught the fishing poles with one hand and her hand dropped reflexively on his to try to help him catch the toppling poles before they fell – then curiously she felt their fingers intertwine together as they looked at each other. "What are you trying to say, Chuck?"

"What I've wanting to say since lunch. That I've been dying to get my hands on one of those inside out carrot cake cookies since I saw you take them out of the picnic bag," he said with a devilish version of the Bartowski smile.

Sarah did a double take, "W-what?" _NO! He can't be that…what he does with his eyebrows… _She felt him gently shaking in her embrace and gently pulling her in.

"No," he said chuckling softly but with a pensive look on his face as the bills of their hats touched, "I'm not _that _oblivious. I _have _been out of circulation for a while, so I'm a bit rusty though. It's just that I don't know quite what to do or say when I'm with you, Sarah Walker, I know what I'm feeling, but…"

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me." She took his hat off his head and dropped it to the ground before grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his lips to hers. He met her half way. The fishing poles dropped to the ground as Chuck and Sarah slipped into a tight and easy embrace and the kiss deepened. As the kiss almost started to become frantic they broke apart, both of them staring shocked into one another's eyes as they caught their breath. Their eyes fell to each others lips and then the kiss did become frantic as their hands came up holding each others face's in what could have been interpreted as a struggle for domination. Then Sarah felt Chuck shiver in her hands. She opened her eyes startled to see his eyes disassociated and barely perceptibly fluttering for a fraction of a second while a red light lit his face in a blinking pattern.

"Sarah, why is your CIA issue GLG-70 watch blinking a beep code to call the office immediately?"

She pulled away and fumbled with her coat sleeve pulling it up enough to reveal her blinking watch and the code. She then looked at him through eyes of deep icy blue flame and pulled him in tighter to her with a firm grip on his wrist now pulled halfway around his back, "What? Chuck, did you just…? Are you…?" She felt herself cracking.

"Whoa, Sarah, ease up, okay? It's hard to fly with a broken arm."

_Whoa? _She just stared into his eyes for several seconds, but felt her grip easing and no resistance from Chuck as she balanced the choice of whether to kiss him, or to adhere to mission protocol by ending him with a knife here and now. Kissing him was winning hands down and her alternate orders to kill the subject if he became uncontrollable were just repugnant to her…especially now. She looked into his eyes and wondered if he could ever possibly become controllable, already knowing the answer. No, there was simply no way he was going to be turned into a controlled asset in the classic asset/handler sense, and Sarah knew she didn't want the job when she reflected on her growing feelings for him.

"Sarah, can we just talk about this?"

"SHSSSH!" She put her finger to his lips and craned her head to listen. "Do you hear that?" she whispered.

"Hear what? Wait. Oh, yeah. That's a McDonnell Douglas MD 520N. They make a very distinct sound because they don't…have…a…tail…rotor," he trailed off seeing the expression on her face.

"Did you just…?"

"Just what? No! What? Sarah, I'm not sure I understand what you're asking me. I just know a thing or two about helicopters, that's all."

She stared at him, and then beyond him, "Chuck…get DOWN!" Sarah shoved him down onto the grass and fell half on top of him as an MD 520N helicopter flew close overhead flattening the grass around them and swooped around in a tight turn circling them. She looked up into the cockpit as it flew over them and saw who could only have been John Casey sitting in the left seat glaring at her lit by the setting sun with an assault rifle in his hands, and the pilot in the right seat wearing the standard flight suit with a set of night vision goggles tilted up on the helmet.

"What the hell!?" Exclaimed Chuck as Sarah's arm held him to the ground.

"Chuck, we have to get out of here!"

"What? Well, then why are you holding me down!" he turned to her "Why? Sarah, who are those guys?"

"Listen to me, Chuck. They're NSA, and you don't want to still be around when they land. We have to leave, NOW."

"NSA? And you're CIA? God, when is my family going to finally be rid of you people," he said with a groan.

Sarah turned with a shocked expression totally unsuppressed and clung to him even as she was flooded with questions, "Chuck, trust me, please…please, there is so much at stake here," she said into his ear, "We'll talk about this later. Right now we have to get to your plane."

She could feel the heat radiating off Chuck as she looked into eyes of smoldering molten brown. They were almost unreadable, and the sight both frightened and exhilarated her at the same time, but she could see anger and frustration in them...and something else. The closeness of the moving helicopter recaptured their attention and they rolled together slightly as they watched the chopper settle into a slow moving hover and it stalked around about a hundred and fifty feet from them. John Casey was looking right at them, and Chuck did some quick and simple calculations, "Sorry, Sarah, but you're going to have to ride in the back seat this time," he said with a shrug as she turned her attention from the helicopter to him. _'Is he smiling? Why is he smiling?'_

"Are you ready then?" Sarah asked as she could feel both their bodies coiling.

He nodded with a small – _Oh, my, gosh, it _was _a smile_. They both sprang to their feet and Sarah watched in shock as Chuck reached back for his ball cap lying on the ground before he grabbed her hand and they made a mad dash for Stephen's Mistress.

* * *

**A/N **LUMB, another cliff-hangar. I wonder how an MD 520 and a souped-up Super Cub are going to match up against each other?

The next act of Chuck Versus the Lost Years will be up next, and then I hope to settle into a comfortable alternating production schedule between the two stories. Reviews are always welcome.

Oh, and Steve. If you ever find yourself reading this - Semper Gumby

Mac


	4. Reaching an Understanding

**A/N **9/27/2012 – Thanks for your patience. This took a lot longer than I thought it would but I think I may finally be back into a comfortable writing pattern. Taking a break from this for over a certain length of time can really throw a monkey wrench into things. Also, I'm not writing this story from an outline and had to give some thought to where I wanted it to go. Now that question is somewhat settled, so things should progress a little more smoothly going forward - I think. I'm still trying to stay somewhat flexible with this one and let the story develop on the fly, hehe.

Thanks to my wife and **somedeepmystery **for beta reading this and putting up with and correcting my many shortcomings as a fiction writer. Yes, I know, I still have a long ways to go.

**I don't own Chuck**

* * *

**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 4 – Reaching an Understanding**

Everything was moving in slow motion, their feet, their breathing, even the rotor blades of the helicopter seemed to be turning slower. Like one of those dreams where the faster you needed to run the slower you got, like your feet were stuck in thick mud. The Super Cub seemed to be miles away, and it didn't appear to be getting any closer. But the helicopter certainly was. It appeared to be trying to move between them and their only means of escape. It flew towards them like it was going to land, and as it did, it moved heavily, drunkenly, like it was struggling almost as badly as their feet were as they ran.

Chuck realized as he watched the helicopter that his impromptu calculations were correct; that it was operating very near its maximum hover altitude here in this high alpine valley in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. He had an advantage here and he was going to use it. As the helicopter moved to land not far from them he jumped down onto the gravel edged riverbank near them as Sarah looked at him with confusion trying to tug him back toward the Cub. He jerked his hand from hers and picked up a double handful of round river stones, throwing them up into the air over the whirling rotor disk of the helicopter.

"SHIIIT!" the pilot exclaimed as the helicopter made a terrible racket around them. Stones went flying every which direction as the rotor blades hit them and the pilot yanked on the stick and collective trying to move them out of harms way. John Casey grabbed the edge of his seat watching the rotor disk almost come in contact with the ground as they maneuvered from the unexpected danger so surprisingly, and literally, thrown at them. Casey glared back at the young man who had almost brought them down with a hand full of stones like a modern day story of David and Goliath.

Chuck got a good look at the angry man in the passenger seat as the helicopter quickly turned away, and he froze for a second while a set of very disturbing government files appeared before him and he tried to shake the image and the sudden accompanying headache away. He looked up from the riverbank to Sarah who was standing there above him on the grass with an expression of complete shock and disbelief before she too finally shook her head and pulled her attention back to the helicopter as it flew away from them.

Turning her attention once again to Chuck, she held her hand out to him and shouted, "Come on!" Sarah watched him standing there as if he was frozen in place for a couple of seconds with an utterly perplexed look on his face. _What just happened to him? _Then Chuck finally reached out and took her hand and was amazed at her strength as she yanked him up him up out of the riverbed and pulled him toward Stephen's Mistress with an iron grip on his wrist. This was all way too much. It made his head spin trying to take all of this in. They finally made it to the airplane and Sarah released her grip on him to climb in. "C'mon, get in Chuck!" she exclaimed, but then watched with bewilderment as Chuck ran back to the picnic blanket behind the plane and quickly gathered everything up in it in a large ball of cloth. "Chuck! What are you doing?!"

He ran up to the plane and tossed the blanket and its contents into the baggage compartment over Sarah's shoulder. "My grandmother made that blanket!" he shouted back, with an odd mixture of anger and amusement on his face, as he hastily climbed into the front seat, "Besides, I've already got two government agents breathing down my neck, I don't need the Forest Service doing it, too!"

Sarah just stared dumbfounded at him and the brown curly locks spilling from under the bottom of his cap as she watched him hurriedly start the engine. When Cub's engine roared to life and the airplane started to move, Chuck pushed the throttle and stick swiftly forward, and the planes tail lifted as he pivoted it on the left wheel. As the plane turned around on the gravel bar the McDonald Douglas MD520n came into view ahead of them over the river, moving in an apparent attempt to block their takeoff. Releasing the left brake, Chuck stood for a split second on the left rudder pedal and the plane accelerated across the gravel bar in a turn rapidly picking up speed. He yanked on the Johnson bar, pulling out the flaps, just as the wheels hit the water. Then he flipped a switch cover up on the stick, pressing a button that caused the engine to race as nitrous oxide flowed from a small tank under the pilot's seat. The airplane hydroplaned across the water almost directly at the helicopter, coming up on one hydroplaned wheel as it went, with the Super Cub's wingtip only inches from the water.

"Holy SHIT! Who the hell _is _that guy?" the helicopter pilot yelled over the intercom, as the Cub's wingtip narrowly missed the rotor blades of the helicopter when it flashed by.

"The stupid moron is a crop duster pilot," answered, John Casey, through gritted teeth. He watched the plane fly so closely by him he could see the color of the pilot's brown eyes.

"Well he certainly fits the stereotype! That guy is nuts!"

"Hng! No argument there," retorted Casey through a grimace that looked oddly like a smile. "Don't lose him!"

The helicopter turned to give chase as Chuck flew the Mistress up the river only a few feet over the water, in ground effect, letting the airplane accelerate under full power. He whipped the plane into a hard bank and followed a meander in the river between a stand of ponderosa pine trees, flying up a canyon, a large ridge looming above them up ahead. The helicopter was now starting to gain on them not very far behind.

All this time Sarah had been struggling to put her seat belts on as she watched the terrain and trees flash by only feet away from the window. She felt a knot rising in her stomach and for the first time in a very long time, remembered what it felt like to feel almost completely out of control of a situation and her tight control on her fear. "Chuck, what are you doing?" she shouted, over the din of the engine and propeller for the second time in the last minute. "You just flew us into a box canyon!"

Chuck looked briefly back over his shoulder at her "I know! Trust me! I know what I'm doing!"

The brief glimpse Sarah got of his brown eyes told her he was just holding onto the edge of control of his own fear, but he spoke with confidence like he already knew with certainty where the next few seconds were going to lead. She watched Chuck reach for his headset from the overhead bar with his free hand and slip it on almost effortlessly as he flew the plane up the canyon jinking around the turns in the narrowing river at tree top height. She reached for her own headset and put it on as she watched the canyon wall flash by and the ridge looming up ahead getting larger in the windscreen. All this time the helicopter with its better top speed was rapidly catching up to them, now just slightly higher than they were.

"Did you get your seatbelts on?!" Chuck asked. At the same time he quickly took the stick between his knees and latched his lap belt.

"Yes!" She wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing for the third time, but held her tongue when she realized it didn't matter a bit, and that she was along for the ride no matter how it turned out.

"Good!" he answered, "Because you're going to need it! Hold on to your hat!"

Chuck yanked the plane into another hard bank around some trees and toggled the nitrous oxide tank again as he leveled the wings and pulled back on the stick climbing up the canyon wall towards the ridgeline above.

The helicopter behind them struggled to follow. On the verge of a rotor stall, the pilot realized too late he'd been suckered into a performance corner of the flight envelope that he couldn't sustain under the G loading he would need to miss the trees up ahead. He and John Casey watched the Cub roll almost knife-edge up ahead of them narrowly fitting between the gap of a stand of trees near the top of the ridge. Too late, the helicopter pilot realized they weren't going to fit through that gap and he tried to bank the helicopter in a vain attempt to squeeze through and still keep it flying.

"Oooooooooooooh, SHIIIIT!" The ends of the rotor blades went crashing through the trees as the MD520n barely cleared the ridge top and the cockpit started to fill with white smoke as a terrible high pitched grinding whine came from the top of the cabin. Warning horns started to sound and the instrument panel looked like a Christmas tree as almost every annunciator light in the cockpit lit up. John Casey glared out the helicopter windscreen watching the Super Cub ahead of them roll inverted and fly down the back of the ridge line out of sight.

"Dammit! Hang on, Major Casey, we're going down," shouted the pilot, and he then started to sound a Mayday on the radio as he struggled with the controls to make an emergency landing in a small clearing in the trees. The pilot set the helicopter down heavy in the wet snow patched meadow just as the transmission catastrophically failed with a loud grinding bang and the rotor blades ground to a halt.

In the Super Cub Sarah watched goggle-eyed when Chuck rolled the Mistress into knife-edge, threading the airplane through a stand of pine trees near the top of the ridge as he continued the roll till they were inverted at the top of the ridgeline. She looked up at the tree tops flashing very closely overhead through the sunroof and looked down and saw sky as he pulled the stick back and descended down the back of the ridge upside down. He then pushed causing them to go weightless in their seats and the plane then rolled back upright again into a hard turn to the right with sudden positive G's. All the while their speed was building as they rounded a corner in the canyon and flew down it. Sarah watched Chuck quickly check over his shoulder behind them and a grimace crossed his face, and for a second he caught her eye before he again looked forward.

"They're not back there anymore! I think they may have gone down!"

"Leave them Chuck," she shouted back, her voice cracking slightly, "Get us out of here!"

"No!" He turned and glared at her. "I'm going back, they may be injured!"

"No, Chuck. It isn't safe. We need to get out of these mountains, there might be more of them." Sarah was trying with all her might to sound like she was being reasonable and in control of the situation again. She attempted to moderate the tone and volume of her voice, if only failing a bit, as her voice was still almost a shout.

Chuck stared straight ahead and said with stony words, "Isn't safe? Isn't safe? What the hell was safe about what we just did? I don't know what they do in the world you come from, Sarah, but in mine we always check a crash site for survivors. I don't care who they are!"

He pulled the plane into a climbing turn and flew back up the canyon looking over his shoulder for a moment to see the woman in the back seat giving him a deadly, cold stare, but remaining silent. Her blue eyes were practically glowing with anger, and he felt a shiver run up his spine as he looked at her.

Seeing smoke up ahead he pulled up over the ridgeline and they saw the helicopter that had been chasing them parked in a meadow below as they circled around it. Smoke was billowing from below the rotor hub and two men were standing in the soggy grass staring up at them.

"Are you satisfied now, Chuck?! Now get us out of here before I do it myself!"

Chuck scowled back at Sarah for a second, and then rolled the airplane aggressively back around to the west and descended down low into another canyon. The two of them sat in icy silence for several moments as they flew west towards lower terrain flying just below the ridgelines. When Chuck started to circle a spot in the mountains below them he felt Sarah grab his shoulder with a firm grip.

Sarah's voice was as cold and deadly as liquid oxygen, "What are you doing now, Chuck? I said get us out of these mountains. Get us out of these mountains now, or else-"

"Or else what, Sarah, you're going to shoot me?" He kept his eyes focused straight ahead not wanting to see the deadly look he knew he would see if he looked back at her. He could feel her eyes burning the hair on the back of his head. Then he heard a very heavy sigh come over the intercom. When he looked back at her all he saw was pain.

"Chuck…" Her voice cracked.

Chuck felt the hardness in his own face soften as he looked at her and returned her sigh. "Look, Sarah, only a few moments ago you held on pretty close to me and asked me to trust you. Granted, the circumstances weren't the best," and he allowed that crooked grin to appear a bit on his face, before turning his attention back out the plane and continuing, "But I decided to do it, in spite of all the startling revelations and the deceptions, I decided to do it; because something in me was shouting at me to trust you. Now I'd like you to trust me," he said turning back to her looking her in the eye, "In spite of what you may have been told about me in some briefing, or what you or some agency superior thinks I've done. I'm asking you to trust me. I don't even know why you're here or what this is all about. But I want to sort it out. Will you please give me the opportunity to do that?" They sat in silence for a moment as Chuck circled a point on the ground.

Sarah looked out to try to see what he was circling but couldn't spot anything obvious except what might have been an odd looking cabin in a stand of trees on a hilltop below them. She heard another sigh pass her lips. "All right, Chuck. We'll do it your way," she said quietly, "What do you have in mind?"

She watched Chuck turn to her with that amazing smile, like the previous moments had never happened, and instantly she felt herself calming under the onslaught of its warmth. He chuckled softly and said, "Sorry to do this to you again, so soon, but hold onto your hat."

She watched dumbstruck as Chuck chopped the power and rolled the airplane into a Split-S, diving down toward the mountains below them. He leveled out, adjusting power as he made a sweeping turn toward the hilltop that she had seen the cabin on only a moment before, but there wasn't a runway anywhere in sight. As Chuck approached the hill in front them he pulled out all the flaps and added power, lining up on a short, smooth, grassy area that ran up the hillside toward the top of the hill. Only then did Sarah realize he was going to land there and her breath hitched as he rounded out and the wheels touched down on the hillside. He added more power even as they slowed on the steep slope and rolled out into a small clearing in the trees at the top of the hill. Chuck chopped the power as the ground leveled out, and braking to a halt, he spun the Cub around, shutting the engine down when they stopped.

Sarah realized she had been holding her breath and let it out in as a controlled manner as she could. "Don't tell me, this is another one of your secret picnic spots, isn't it?"

Chuck let out a short mischievous laugh as he turned to her, "This is a whole lot more than a picnic spot. If my Dad had been here to see me do that he would have killed me."

Sarah looked at him with subtly amused curiosity. "I get the impression that's not the first time you've landed here."

Chucks only gave her half a smile but mirth was dancing in his eyes as he answered, "No, it's not. Please don't tell my Dad, O.K.? I would be in so much trouble if he found out."

Sarah couldn't help herself and smiled back at his request, "I promise I won't tell him, Chuck. Where exactly are we?" she asked after looking briefly around them again.

Chuck pointed to a structure partially visible through the trees, "We're on the Kern Plateau, at my Dad's old hunting cabin. Not many people know about it. We should be able to hole up here for a while so we can sort all of this out," he said with a touch of wistfulness, looking down into his lap.

"Chuck…look, we-"

"It's okay, Sarah. There's no way we can avoid this. We have to talk about it. To see if we can reach some sort of an understanding about what is going on here…" As his voice trailed off he looked into her eyes, and Sarah knew when she gazed back into his own brown eyes that he was talking about much more than the events of the last half hour or so. The strange events and circumstances she had experienced with Chuck since meeting him only a little more than a day ago shook her to the core as they flashed through her mind like a movie. Chuck unlatched his lap belt and quietly started to get out of the plane, snapping her back to the present. Sarah unbuckled her own safety belts and climbed out of the Cub following him across the small clearing into the trees.

-II-

The two of them walked through the trees up to a small hexagonal shaped structure with a green metal roof. The building was covered with shakes and several small windows were set in the facets of the six walls. An odd shed-like structure was attached to one side of the building with solar panels on its roof and a small satellite dish was perched on the roof of the cabin. A seldom-used jeep trail led away from the building down the side of the hill and out of sight into the growing darkness around them. Sarah followed Chuck up to the very substantial front door and he pulled a key ring from his pocket inserting one of the keys into a round Buffo lock in a large hasp on the door.

They walked into the small cabin and Chuck reached up and picked up a flint lantern starter from a shelf by the door and lit a small gas lamp on the wall near them. The brightening lamp mantle illuminated the modest interior space revealing two metal bunk beds along two of the walls. Both of the bunks were the type that had single beds on the top and full sized beds on the bottom. A table and chairs were in the center of the room, and a small kitchen was along one of the other walls. The doorway to a small bathroom was situated between the beds and the kitchen. Another doorway on the opposite side of the kitchen with a window in it looked into a dark space beyond. There was a small desk on the other side this door with a computer sitting on it. It seemed a little out of place in the rustic looking room. There were also two simple wooden chairs with cushions arranged around a small pot-bellied stove between the front door and the beds.

Chuck turned to her with a slightly melancholy look in his eyes. "Please, make yourself at home. The bathroom is over there if you need it," he said to her pointing at the door.

Sarah looked back at him for a moment trying to gauge his somber mood, and then nodded wordlessly back at him before walking into the bath and shutting the door. She stood with her back leaning against the door for a few seconds and let out a long cleansing breath before turning her attention to a very strange looking toilet under a small window. After taking a moment to re-familiarize herself with the workings of a composting toilet she turned back to a mirror over the sink and stared at her reflection for several minutes attempting to make some sense of the chaos she now found herself in. Finally, washing up and splashing some water on her face, she wiped her face with a towel that was hanging on a ring by the sink, took another deep breath, and walked back into the main room of the cabin.

A sudden moment of alarm gripped her when she looked around the room and didn't see Chuck, but the front door was still open and she could see a glow coming from outside in the growing darkness. Cautiously, she walked to the door to see Chuck with his back to her, sitting on a split log bench. He was using a stick to poke at a freshly lit fire in a fire ring near his feet. Sarah watched him from the doorway for a moment, noticing how the firelight played across him. She studied him, taking in his broad but slightly hunched and stooped shoulders. His posture seemed to be telegraphing a sense of defeat to her. She silently walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, and it made him jump as he looked up at her with a tight-lipped and sheepish smile. The reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes revealed a veiled sadness that made her heart leap into her throat.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said apologetically as she took a seat close to him on the bench. She inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't move away.

"It's okay, don't worry over it. I'm just a little on edge right now." He had her picnic bag next to his feet and pointed to it, "Would you like something to eat?"

"Yeah, that would be nice." Sarah watched Chuck as he dug through the bag. She sighed quietly as she thought about the source of his edgy mood and the awful string of events that had led up to this moment. He seemed to be remarkably in control of himself in the face of all that had transpired, and it surprised her a bit. As she watched him she saw a person who seemed to sometimes give in to his moods, like he was now, but didn't let them rule over him. It intrigued her to know he could apparently stay in such close touch with his feelings without letting them drag him into a destructive mental state. He had the look about him that seemed to say he'd seen a lot in his life; tough times that had made him grow up quickly, molding him into a person who seemed to be able to roll with the punches life threw at him. But he still seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve despite it all. She wondered how he managed to do that. Her own life had molded her into an often times hard and cold person; a person who had over the years raised enormous walls around herself to keep the outside world at bay. It was how she stayed in control and coped with the occasionally nasty world she worked and lived in. But this man in front of her didn't appear to have any walls whatsoever, and she wondered how he coped with the world without them. It was a foreign concept to her, and one that completely contradicted her own life experiences and the training she had received at the Farm.

"I don't know about you, but I could sure use that cookie now. How do you feel about dessert, first?" he asked with a small smile that didn't make it to his eyes.

"Sure, that sounds good," she heard herself answer, with a shy smile, as she accepted the offered carrot cake cookie and took a small bite. Sarah found herself momentarily weighed down by dread, as she struggled to find something else to say to him; anything that might re-establish that amazing connection she had so quickly made with him. A bond she so abjectly feared had been lost in such an equally short time. Then Chuck saved her, if only from her inner battle when he spoke up.

"What happened to me, Sarah? Why am I suddenly being watched and chased by the CIA and the NSA? Why am I seeing these strange visions and having these sudden…I don't know what to call them…flashes of information I should know nothing about? I looked at John Casey today in that helicopter and I saw his entire NSA personnel file…and a whole lot more. That is _not_ a very nice man."

"I don't know exactly what has happened, Chuck, but maybe we can figure it out together." Sarah's heart once again beat heavy in her chest as she pondered a horrible possibility. "Chuck, did you…_flash _on my personnel file, too?" She couldn't help herself. She had to ask. She needed to know if he'd seen that piece of her that haunted her every time she looked in a mirror.

"No, I didn't. Should I have? I don't understand what's happening to me Sarah, what is causing me to see these things, what might be triggering them. I saw the complete schematic for your GLG-70 watch when I saw it blinking today. This is one of the strangest things I've ever experienced."

Sarah was relieved, but lost in thought for a moment as she asked herself why Chuck would see the intel on John Casey but not hers. Lacking an explanation she pursed her lips, and looking at Chuck, decided to take a different tack. "Chuck, have you heard from Bryce Larkin recently?"

He looked back at her with curious alarm. "As a matter of fact, yes. He sent me an email a couple of days ago. I just got around to reading it last night. Do you know Bryce?"

Sarah felt that knot in her stomach when she heard Chuck's second question, then deflected it. "What was the email about?"

Chuck looked thoughtfully into the fire for a moment, munching on a bite of his cookie. "It was pretty strange. Somehow he hacked my Halo game server and created a private game on it. The email looked like a challenge to play the game. It had a riddle in it for the game access password. It was all a little weird because I haven't heard from Bryce in ages."

"Before you got that email when was the last time you spoke with Bryce?" she asked biting her lower lip.

Chuck visibly winced when he recalled the memory. "Right after he burned me and got me kicked out of Annapolis using false accusations that I had cheated on my mid-terms. We actually had a physical confrontation. It was the first time I'd ever been in an actual fight. It didn't end well for me," he answered with a despondent sigh.

Again, Sarah felt the knot twisting at Chuck's mention of the word 'burned', and the thought of him losing in a fight with Bryce. The notion that Chuck had lost the fight didn't surprise her knowing what she did about Bryce. But the fact that Bryce would do what he did to his best friend did surprise her. She thought she knew Bryce better than that.

"Sarah, why would he send me that email, and challenge me to a game, after all this time and after what he did to me at the Naval Academy? It doesn't make sense. I almost deleted the message because I'm still so angry about it."

_I wish you had, Chuck. _"Did you solve the riddle?"

"Oh, yeah, that was easy. I solved the riddle and accessed the game. But it wasn't a game…" he trailed off, as if he'd come to a sudden realization that sounded too fantastic to be possible.

"What happened then, Chuck?"

"I don't really know. I remember being a little freaked out when my server stack went berserk…and then there were these images on the computer monitors. Then, the next thing I knew, Morgan was waking me up and I had a terrible headache…and my server was crashed…in fact it was way more than crashed. It was wiped clean."

Chuck gazed at the young woman next to him. He could see the hard drives spinning in her head as he watched her lost in deep thought. An ugly thought crept into his head as he wondered if he could really trust her at all and if the signals she had been sending him were just because she was only using him to get what she wanted.

"Sarah, what did Bryce send me? What aren't you telling me?"

Looking back at Chuck, Sarah could see what he was thinking. He wasn't hiding it at all. He was questioning his trust in her, and it made her heart sink seeing it. But who could blame him after what she had done? Playing him was part of her mission plan. But the mission had changed, and so had her feelings for Chuck. She _had _to regain his trust somehow, and not just for the missions sake. She could see the possibility that this operation she was on might take an unexpected turn, and much larger possibilities beyond that. Thinking back on her actions of the last twenty-four hours she wondered if she had known that all along.

It was time for full disclosure. "Chuck, Bryce is an agent for the NSA. He was recruited in his senior year at the Academy. For some reason he went rogue and destroyed a highly classified government project at Fort Meade." Sarah paused as she thought about what more she could tell him.

"What kind of government project? Did it have anything to do with computers and intelligence gathering?"

_Well, at least he's asking the right questions. _She let out a sudden breath, "The project was called the Intersect. It was designed to gather and correlate intelligence data and look for patterns and links in the noise. I was told in my briefing for this mission that they were also experimenting with visually encoding the data in a program to supposedly allow faster access to the results, but the purpose was never explained. That's really the most I knew about it until this morning when I discovered you unconscious on the floor in your den and-"

"Wait a second. You were at my house and found me? Why didn't you wake me then?"

"I didn't know what had happened to you, Chuck. If I'd awakened you I would have blown my cover. I needed some time to put the puzzle together."

"So how come I'm seeing these visions, or flashes, or whatever they are?" Deep down he already knew the answer and it scared the daylights out of him.

"Because it's also a program. A program that was designed to be downloaded into the human brain. I didn't understand why they would visually encode the data until you accessed it when you saw my watch today."

Chuck palmed his face as the implications of what she was telling him sank in. "I have a computer program in my head? One that has all the CIA's and NSA's intelligence on it?" He suddenly felt like he had a huge target painted on his back.

Sarah somberly nodded back at him, sitting quietly for a moment. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and saw she had one bar and encrypted access. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. "Chuck, I need to call my Director to let him know what's going on. This is a game changer and I need to consult him on it."

Sarah took his hand in hers and looked earnestly into his eyes. "If it means anything at all to you at this point, I'm sorry about what has happened to you, and I'm going to do everything I can to help you. Please believe that, Chuck. I'm on your side…and I'll stay there if you'll let me."

Chuck gulped as he stared glassy eyed at her. "Sarah, are they going to disappear me over this?"

Her gaze fell to her feet as she sighed, thinking about the possibility and her contingency orders; illegal orders that could have painted a target on her own back now that she thought about it. "I don't know, Chuck, but I'm going to do everything in my power to prevent it." She looked back up at him and her eyes were that burning blue flame again, "Please believe that, Chuck. I won't let them hurt you or take you from your family." _Or me! Damn the orders! _

"I need to call my Director now. Why don't you go inside? I'll be in, in a little bit."

"Alright," he answered warily, "I think I'll email Morgan and let him know that we're okay. He's got to be worrying about us. I just hope he hasn't already called the cavalry."

"What?" she looked at him in amazement, "You have internet access up here in the boonies?"

He chuckled briefly, "Please. I'm a Bartowski. I feel practically naked without my technology." He pointed to the satellite dish and the shed building. "See that? Well, it's a remote observatory. Dad and I built it a few years ago. We access the telescopes and run them over the internet."

Sarah looked at him agape as she thought about the nerdiness required to do that. Every minute she was around Chuck he surprised her more and more. "Okay. Go ahead and let Morgan know we're all right. But don't tell him where we are. Or better yet, why don't you tell him we're someplace else." She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of asking him to lie to his best friend.

Chuck looked back at her for a few seconds and then grinned with that funny one-sided smile. "I understand. I can do that; and I know just the place. I'll see you in a few minutes," he said, as he picked up the picnic bag and walked toward the cabin. "I'll go ahead and make us some supper," he added looking over his shoulder at her, hoisting the bag up in his hand.

"Okay. That sounds good. I'm pretty hungry." When the door closed Sarah turned back toward the fire, staring into the flames and composing her thoughts for a few moments. Then, looking at her phone, she pressed the encrypted speed dial command. Somehow she _had_ to make this right.

-III-

When Sarah walked back into the cabin she was surprised to see a bottle of wine sitting open on the table along with most of the contents of the picnic bag. There were place settings on the table and a simple chandelier made of deer antlers hanging from the peak of the ceiling on a chain was lit up over it. Chuck was in the kitchen slicing up some cheese and cleaning some strawberries that they hadn't gotten around to eating at lunch.

"Oh, hi," he said as he turned around and placed the cutting board and bowl of fruit on the table, "Dinner is served."

"Wow, this looks good; and wine too, I'm impressed."

He grinned as he poured some wine into her glass – a real wine glass. "I keep a few bottles up here just in case. Pinot seemed appropriate, I hope you like it. Please, dig in."

"Pinot sounds good," she said taking a seat in the simple wooden chair at the table, and plastering her best CIA smile on her face as she took a sip of the wine.

He looked back at her cautiously as he sat down and started to eat, noticing her equally cautious smile. "I really don't want to get dinner conversation off to a bad start, but you look a little troubled. How did your conversation with your boss go?"

_Damn, how did he see through that? _She looked at him for a moment and bit her lower lip as she thought about it and picked up a slice of cheese, "Honestly, I'm still trying to read between the lines about that. My boss can be a little cryptic at times."

"Big surprise there, considering he's a big wheel at the CIA," Chuck quipped.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled; this time it was more genuine. "Well, he certainly didn't get where he is by showing everyone his cards."

"So, what did he say?"

She chewed her food thoughtfully using it as an excuse to delay her answer. "At first he wanted to take you into protective custody-"

Chuck choked and his face fell. That didn't sound good.

"However," she continued stretching the word out, "I made a strong argument for the assignment of a personal protective detail instead," she paused waiting for him to look at her. "I volunteered for the job," she continued when he finally did.

He looked at her incredulously, "Why would you do that? Aren't you a field agent?"

"I promised you I'd help you. I don't know any other better way to do that than asking for assignment to your protective detail. I'm also uniquely qualified for the assignment and already read in on the Intersect program. Also this way we can minimize the number of people who know about you. It's a security risk every time another person is read in with this information. That's how I presented it to Graham."

"Graham is your boss?" He picked up a strawberry and bit into it, wondering where he had heard that name before.

"Yes, Graham is a Deputy Director and the Director of the National Clandestine Service. I think I made a strong argument for you, Chuck. I think he's considering it seriously."

"But he hasn't made a decision."

"No," she answered, but then added when she saw him frown, "I think there's a good chance he'll go for it, though." _God, I hope so. _She wasn't sure if Graham would agree to losing his protégé and best agent to a protective detail. The alternative was not pretty. She thought of the real possibility of having to take Chuck off grid and run. It was a possibility that had her really wondering about her motivations. The thought of how her loyalties might have changed startled her. But she had tried to convince Graham that there was a possibility that Chuck could be brought in as an asset, even though she found the idea repulsive, and what it would mean for her and Chuck personally. That thought made her heart heavy.

"And if he does, what then?" Chuck asked as he set his glass down and started to push his food around his plate.

"I don't know," Sarah answered, somewhat crestfallen, "We'll just have to wait and see, I guess."

"Okay." He looked at her realizing something about that was bothering her, but changed the subject when he thought of a file he'd seen. "And what about John Casey? Does he have orders to kill me?"

Sarah stared back at him wondering just what Chuck had seen in that 'flash'. "Graham is trying to get in contact with Casey's boss at the NSA to have him called off. I don't know what his orders were, but they probably weren't much different than mine."

"The man had an assault rifle, Sarah."

"Yes, and he probably could have shot both of us back in that meadow. But I really don't know."

"Okay, I think I can accept that." He looked back at her regretfully, and then felt a lump in his throat as he pondered just what Sarah's orders might have been. "I think we really need to change the subject, because I've had enough of this depressing topic for now. I emailed Morgan and told him we were okay and where we were. He was glad to hear we were all right. He was getting a little worried about us."

"Where did you tell him we went?"

"Barstow."

Sarah looked at Chuck like he'd sprouted a rack of deer antlers, "Barstow? Why Barstow?" _What's in Barstow besides truck stops and seedy motels?_

He shot her that megawatt smile and it melted her. "Believe it or not, there's a really great steak house there. Morgan and I fly over there occasionally and borrow the airport courtesy car to go there for dinner. He was a little jealous to hear I took you there."

_Maybe_ _you'll have to really take me there for dinner sometime, Chuck._ "Oh, okay, I guess that works. Except for explaining us being gone overnight."

"Well, we were going to have to find a way to explain that anyway," Chuck, said sheepishly, trying to hide the smile, but failing miserably.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Sarah murmured smiling back as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. _Did we get one room, or two? Two beds, or one? Stop!_

He smiled at her again and rose from his seat, starting to clear the table. "We'll figure that one out later. How would you like to see the observatory? Can I give you a tour?"

Sarah shot him an amused sideways glance. "That sounds suspiciously like 'how would you like to see my etchings', Chuck," and she smiled when he turned beet red.

"No,no,no,no, nothing like that, completely innocent," he stammered, "I just thought I'd share my nerdy side with you."

_Damn._ "Sure, I'd love to see your observatory," she answered with a impish smile, "Maybe constellations are better than etchings." _That should get his mind off of John Casey and the Intersect for a while._

Chuck almost dropped the plates he was holding.

-IV-

Wow. It was nerdier than she'd envisioned. Chuck pushed a button next to the door when they entered and the low roof rolled off to one side. He flipped another switch and the roofless room was bathed in soft blue-green light from L.E.D. lights mounted low on the walls. Spaced equidistant on the floor mounted on pedestals were two telescopes on what looked like very expensive German equatorial mounts. One was a large short-focus refractor and the other some kind of big compound reflector. Each had specialized digital cameras and filter carousels mounted on them with carefully bundled wires leading away to a computer that was sitting in a protective cabinet in the corner by a small work desk.

Looking up, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Sarah saw a spectacular sky filled with stars. More than she could recall seeing in a long, long, time. Even with a waning full moon just starting to peak up over mountains the sky was just amazing. As she looked up she realized it was having a surprising effect on her. _Maybe this really is better than etchings._

Chuck walked over to the P.C. and typed some commands on the keyboard causing the refractor telescope to slew towards the northern sky. After activating another program he clicked some icons on the monitor with the mouse and a galaxy appeared, filling the screen.

"Wow, now _that_ is really neat," exclaimed Sarah when she saw it, stepping up very close to him with her hand on his shoulder to get a closer look. Even with the troubling day they'd had the sensation she'd felt when touching him was still there. But she could sense wariness in him, a reluctance to return her touch, and before she could stop it a small sad sigh passed her lips. He seemed to notice it.

"Andromeda. Our closest galactic neighbor. You can actually see it with the naked eye or a pair of binoculars. But a five inch refractor really does it justice," said Chuck looking at her with a soft smile.

"You said you and your Dad built all this?" she asked with a tilt of her head, almost resting it on his shoulder. She felt a small victory when he let his hand rest on the small of her back.

"Yeah, back when I was a junior in high school. It was sort of a father-son bonding thing shortly after my grandfather died. Over the years I've upgraded it a bit. It's completely controllable over the internet. Some of my friends use it more than I do, now."

"Well this is amazing; and the sky up here is beautiful. You and your Dad seemed to share a lot of interesting hobbies," said Sarah with more than a little curiosity.

Chucked looked at her and laughed, "Yeah, probably way more than was healthy, at least for Dad's bank account, but we've had a lot of fun with it."

"I'll bet." This seemed like a better opportunity than she'd had so far, but she still felt very uncomfortable asking it. "Tell me more about your Dad, Chuck. What was he like?"

Chuck's expression turned somber and he looked at her appraisingly a few seconds before he took her hand and turned to walk toward the door. "C'mon. This conversation is going to require some elixir."

Sarah shook her head as her shoulders fell a bit, realizing she might have just put them almost back to square one, and followed him into the kitchen. He reached up and grabbed a blue velvet bag with a gold tie cord and yellow stitching off the top of one of the kitchen cabinets and two glass tumblers off a shelf. Recognizing the bag she knew exactly where he was going as he walked out the front door. She watched him throw some more firewood on the embers and stir them back into a flame. Then he sat down on one of the split log benches and patted it with his hand. Quietly, she sat next to him and took a glass of the amber liquid when he filled it and held it out for her.

Filling his glass with three fingers he took a sip and cleared his throat, "My Dad. Where to begin?" he asked the flames in front of them.

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," said Sarah, apologetically. She knew how she felt when asked these questions. She'd been evading them from Chuck only this afternoon.

"It's okay," he said taking another sip and looking into the flames, "It's so ironic how much easier this is to talk about now. My parents were spies."

She hadn't expected _that. _"What? Both of them?"

He chuckled hoarsely, "Gramps too."

"You're kidding me," Sarah, said shaking her head not sure whether to believe it. _But he hasn't lied to me yet._

"Nope. No lie, no joke. It was kind of a family thing, I guess. Ellie and I come from a long line of spies; all the way back to before the civil war. We broke the chain…at least we tried to…" he said, wistfully.

Sarah shook her head at the sudden revelation, realizing Chuck had been brought back into a world he wanted nothing to with, by someone who was once his best friend. Then something else occurred to her that she'd given little thought to until he mentioned both his parents. "What happened to your Mom? You've never mentioned her."

His gaze fell to his feet. "Mom disappeared almost fifteen years ago on a mission. We never heard what happened to her. Only that my Dad said for us not to give up hope."

_Oh, my gosh! _ "I'm so sorry, Chuck," she said placing her hand on his arm, "Did Bryce know about this?"

"Yep."

_That son-of-a-bitch! _"I don't know what to say." She really didn't. The whole thing left her speechless, and angry.

"Not much _to _say, I guess. Maybe it's destiny, or fate…or whatever," he said, palming his face with a sigh.

"I really wish there was something I could do, Chuck; to make this all go away." _How can we get this out of his head? This is just wrong! _

"I feel like I've been dragged into a world I want no part of, Sarah. I saw what that world did to my parents." Chuck looked at her with pleading eyes that made her heart sink. "I refuse to let myself become a part of it…" his voice trailed off and it was laced with despair.

Sarah looked at him sympathetically, but curiously. She wondered how with all the briefing information she had received for this mission, something as important as Chuck's parent's being spies could have been so glaringly omitted. She needed to know more, but didn't know how to ask. She couldn't ask. Not right now.

They sat by the fire for a long time without saying a word. Long enough for Chuck to have to throw some more wood on it, and to refill their glasses.

"Why did you do it, Sarah?"

She sighed and pursed her lips, avoiding eye contact with him "Do what?"

"You know, Sarah. Why did you ask me for a job? Why did you insinuate yourself so deeply into my life so quickly? What were you thinking when you did that? Was it all about the mission?"

She gulped as she looked up at him. She had been asking herself that same question repeatedly for the last day and didn't seem to be getting closer to any real answers. She had always been all about the mission. And this one, well there were some very ugly aspects to it that frightened even her when she thought of the implications of what she'd been ordered to do.

"I don't know." She paused for a moment to think about it as she looked at her own questions mirrored in his eyes. "I have a tendency to compartmentalize things. Sometimes plan ahead for things…contingencies…things that I think will happen, or could happen. Sometimes I do it without even thinking about it. It just…happens. But I think a part of me really wanted that job, Chuck." After a long moment of hesitation she stammered, "At first it was all about the mission…but then…something…"

They sat for a few moments in silence, and then Chuck looked into the campfire and spoke, "I know this has all been very sudden…and that sometimes I can be as dense as the January Tule fog…but there is something going on here isn't there…something between us?"

They both stared into the campfire and the silence slowly became more and more unbearable, "I'm sorry Sarah, I shouldn't have asked. I know you have a job to do and I-"

Very quietly she interrupted him. He almost didn't hear it. "Yes." Sarah couldn't believe her ears when she heard her own voice say it. She didn't think it would ever be possible, or happen so swiftly.

He looked slowly up at her, but Sarah couldn't meet his gaze and instead kept her focus on the flames in front of her; flames that seemed to be reflecting her own burning emotions. Chuck looked down at his hand as Sarah's reached for his and their fingers intertwined. Then she leaned into his side with her cheek resting on his shoulder.

"Yes, Chuck. There is something... between us…something different…special. I…" she looked up at him earnestly, "This is all so very dangerous. I don't think you have any idea how-"

"Yes, I do." Sarah looked at him a bit surprised. "Listen to me Sarah. I know the dangers. I watched my parents live it. Ellie and I were a product of it. We saw how difficult it was for my Dad and Mom; how it colored and distorted their lives." Chuck took a sip of his whiskey and swallowed it, slowly, thoughtfully, "My sister and I decided long ago we didn't want any part of that life. But, you know what? Over the years I realized that neither of my parents would have changed a thing about their decision to be together even if they had the chance to make that decision all over again."

"Tell me a bit more about your parents, Chuck. How is it that you know what they did for the government? Why did they tell you?"

"Like I said, we're from a long family line of spies," he said, with a soft resigned chuckle. "My family was in the business of secrets, but we didn't believe in keeping secrets from each other. My parents didn't want to live a constant lie with us so we were given the broader picture very early on. There are no rules about sharing the occupation, only the stickier compartmented aspects of life at the tip of the spear. My grandfather was a member of the OSS and he spent a lot of time explaining it all to Ellie and me when we were younger. My parents wanted us to know about it so we'd be prepared if something bad were to happen to them or their covers were exposed in a way that might endanger Ellie and me. They wanted us to be aware of it all so we wouldn't be blind to any danger if it presented itself to us. They wanted us to be wary, Sarah." Chuck stirred the embers a bit, staring at the fire. "A lot of good that did…"

Sarah gazed at him sympathetically as she realized his last words were aimed directly at her, and nodded, before looking back into the fire. She could see the logic in it. How having the knowledge of what your love ones did could actually make you safer knowing you had a reason to be on your guard against the nastier possibilities the job of an operative presented. Still, many officers or agents wouldn't share that sort of thing with their families. The thinking being that ignorance was bliss, and the less your family knew the easier it was for everybody; when the cold reality was that not knowing could potentially place some people in greater danger. She really had to commend Chuck's parents for that. That they trusted their children with at least the larger picture. Sarah couldn't help but wonder how many of the grittier details Chuck and his sister might know. Especially when she considered the knowledge that it sounded like the spy life was apparently a family legacy, and one that Chuck and his sister wanted to break. The only problem she saw with the logic was how it might make someone paranoid and always on their guard; maybe even unable to form close ties with anyone.

_Chuck there- _"Chuck, there are rules about relationships between assets and handlers." There, she said it; and the thought made her chest feel tight and her heart ache.

"I'll never be an asset, Sarah. I'd rather die in a flaming aircraft accident than allow the government to own me like that. Besides, that stupid rule is total B.S. anyway. It's meaningless in the face of human emotion. My Dad started out as an asset. Well, not in the classic sense. But the NSA considered him one even though he was a contracted engineer with the agency. The CIA assigned my Mom to him when it became apparent how important the work he was doing was to national security. I remember my mom once said to me it was love at first sight, and that they smashed the rulebook to pieces and never looked back."

"It's not that simple, Chuck. There are reasons for those rules that aren't so very nice to think about."

Chuck squeezed her hand and looked at her with flame dancing in his brown eyes. "Not that simple? Isn't it? It's only complicated if we choose to make it that way. There are ways around every problem in life, Sarah. Even the stupid ones created by a damned government agency that thinks it can throw away the things that make its best people human. Besides, could you really burn me if you were ordered to?"

Sarah's eyes went slightly wide with surprise, her eyebrows arching, even as she tried to hide her reaction to his unexpected insight. _No, Chuck, I wouldn't ever be able to burn you. Say it! _The only thing she could do at the moment was answer him with another huge sigh. But somehow Chuck had gotten to her, and had made her start to think about the alternatives.

"You know," Chuck continued, "I've been telling you a lot about my family and me. But earlier today you spent the better part of a conversation evading every question I asked you. I think it's time you told me at least one or two things about yourself."

"Hmng! That's a touching story, moron; but don't expect the Ice Queen to give you any answers, or even one you're going to like, let alone break any rules for you," said a gruff voice from the darkness.

* * *

**A/N **– Oh, nooos! How much did Casey hear, and just what are Chuck and Sarah going to do about it? Stay tuned.


	5. Orders are Orders

**A/N **10/17/12 – Yeah, go ahead and say it. "You're Late!" Haha. My humble apologies. I have way too many balls in the air right now – the number of writing projects has grown to four. Add a minor case of drama induced writers block to that mix and it spells delay.

Thanks again to my beta readers, **somedeepmystery, ** **BDaddyDL, **and my lovely wife, for letting me bounce ideas off them and finding the flaws without removing my style.

**I don't own Chuck**

* * *

**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 5 – Orders are Orders**

After a split second of complete surprise Sarah closed the short distance and whispered into Chuck's ear, "I may have to aim my gun at you, so don't freak out."

Chuck's eyes went wide. "Why?"

Sarah stood and placed some distance between them as a dark, very large, figure stepped out of the shadows cast by the moon on the trees. John Casey walked casually into the firelight dressed in black tactical garb apparently trying to wipe something from his eye.

"It's late, I'm tired. Let's cut the crap and give him to me _now_. He belongs to the NSA," said the agent laconically as he stared Sarah down, his face hard and unrelenting.

To Chucks surprise, Sarah pulled a .380 caliber Colt Mustang pistol from the inside of her leather jacket and aimed it at him. "The CIA gets him first! You come any closer and I shoot."

Chuck stared at the end of the barrel of the small auto pistol pointed at him, desperately trying to control his breathing as John Casey swiftly drew a Sig Sauer P229 from his holster and activated the Crimson Trace laser sight, pointing it at Sarah's chest.

"Sarah?" Chuck stammered, "I'm freakin' out a bit here…" He blinked and shook his head drawing a curious look from the NSA agent.

"You shoot him, I shoot you, I leave both of your bodies here and go out for a late snack. I'm thinkin' maybe pancakes," said the big scary NSA agent to Sarah, entirely too casually.

Chuck took several steps to the side attempting to move out of the firelight.

"Chuck, stop," shouted Sarah over his raging heartbeat as Casey's gun wavered toward him.

Casey's eyes narrowed as he took aim once again at Sarah. "You expect me to believe you're going to shoot your new boy toy, Agent Walker? Go ahead, finish half my work, both of you are expendable since you couldn't do your own job." The corners of the Major's mouth turned up into a very subtle and thin smile

"So you _are _here to kill me," said Chuck incredulously, as his gaze shifted to Sarah, and he looked at her questioningly with an expression of complete betrayal.

Sarah looked back at him like the world had just fallen away from underneath her. "No…it's not like that, Chu-…it's complicat-"

"Yeah, sure it is," said Chuck, crestfallen, "My own government put out an illegal hit on me. What's complicated about that? This is exactly why Ellie and I wanted nothing to do with your life of lies and deceit. So, just get it over with, why don't you."

Sarah started to lower her gun as her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.

"If you say so numbnuts, the CIA skirt gets it first," said Casey taking aim once again at Sarah. He saw the lanky young man's hand come quickly from behind his back and he tried to swing his gun to bear on him, a look of complete surprise on his face when he saw a flash of metal.

The staccato sound of two rapid pistol shots pierced the night and John Casey flew back from the impact of two heavy .45 caliber bullets striking him in the chest. He landed flat on his back with a thud and a cloud of dust. Sarah stood staring agape for long seconds at Chuck who was holding a Kimber 1911 semi-auto pistol in a modified Weaver stance. _Where did he get that?! _ Chuck just stood there with a look of complete shock on his face.

Finally coming to her senses when she saw the big NSA agent gasp for breath and starting to stir, Sarah ran over to John Casey and pistol-whipped him, knocking him unconscious with a fierce blow to the jaw. She stood up and gawked for a second at two very deformed large caliber bullets embedded in the man's bulletproof vest right over his sternum. She looked up to see Chuck now staring in at her in astonishment, the gun still up and pointing in her direction.

"Chuck! What were you thinking? You could have killed him!"

"He was going to shoot you, Sarah. I…I couldn't let him do that." Chuck was visibly starting to shake. "I…flashed on his vest. I knew it would stop the bullets. He didn't give me a choice..."

"What if you'd missed the vest, Chuck, what then?" Sarah was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Her alarm faded a bit when Chuck lowered the gun to his side and dropped it in the dirt at his feet, a look of sad resignation painted on his face. He was testing her. She could feel it, and she returned her pistol to the hidden holster sewn into the lining of her jacket below her left breast, avoiding his eyes as she did it.

"Yeah…I know…I might have missed…I don't think he would have." Chuck was vibrating like a tuning fork. After a few seconds he turned and walked into the cabin and closed the door.

Sarah stood there staring at the closed door for a moment before shaking her head and searching the NSA agent. She pulled a pair of handcuffs from a pocket on the back of his vest and cuffed him before searching him more thoroughly. Then she dragged him over by the fire, and leaned him up against one of the log benches. After staring at the cabin door for a couple of minutes she got up and walked over to Stephen's Mistress and found the airplane's tiedown kit. Using one of the ropes from the kit she tied the Major's feet together and pulled the rope through the handcuff chain securing him in a tight, seated hogtie, around the heavy log bench.

Sarah walked slowly up to the cabin door trying to listen for activity inside. She tried to open the door by the rope on the wooden cross bolt but it wouldn't budge. She knocked on the door. "Chuck?" After several minutes of silence her head fell and her breath came out with a rush. "Chuck? Open the door, Chuck, please let me in." Her head fell against the door with a quiet thunk. "I'm sorry Chuck. Please believe me, I never wanted this to happen. Please, Chuck, open the door." Once again She was answered with dead silence.

"Chuck…" Sarah turned with her back to the door and slid to the ground sitting with her knees drawn to her chest.

"Well, I stand corrected. I guess he wasn't your boy toy, after all."

Sarah glared at the NSA agent tied up by the fire, fighting back the urge to get up and pistol-whip him again. After a few seconds she had her breathing back under control. "How did you find us? My watch?" she asked with a sigh.

"Yep," answered Casey, matter-of-factly. "It was fairly easy to get another ride and track you down. Did you really think you could stay off grid?"

"No." Sarah got up and walked over to sit on one of the benches. "I was trying to buy us some time, so I could figure out how involved he really was in all this."

"So, he _was_ workin' with Bryce."

"No. He opened an email Bryce sent him. He hasn't heard from Bryce in years. Bryce transferred the Intersect program and the database to Chuck's web server. Chuck saw it."

"So? Then we get the data back and make the moron crop duster pilot sign a four-foot tall stack of paperwork. End of story."

"Is that really the end of it? Were you really sent to kill him?"

"I'm a Special Activities Division officer; a clean up specialist. I report directly to the DD of the NSA; what do you think? Beckman wants all of this to disappear like it never happened. After I'm done here I'm supposed to find and eliminate your old boyfriend too."

Sarah bristled at the mention of her 'old boyfriend'. He could only have been talking about Bryce. But it surprised her that this man, and obviously others too, considered Bryce and her romantically linked in some way. "I only worked with Bryce, that's it. I couldn't even call him a partner."

"Uh, huh. Boyfriend or not, the S.O.B. has gone rogue, and it's my job to find him. So you better get the hell out of the way."

"Look. _You_ better have a talk with the General. DD Graham is trying to contact your boss to call you off. The whole scenario has changed. It doesn't appear that Larkin went rogue now, and the data has been lost."

"What do you mean lost? And what proof do you have that Larkin isn't rogue?" asked Casey, as his eyes narrowed and he furrowed his brow. "And how do you figure telling me this is going to help your pilot friend in there?" he asked shaking his head toward the door.

"The data has been lost because Chuck inadvertently downloaded it into himself. Larkin set it up so once he downloaded it the database would be erased." It sounded too fantastic even as Sarah heard herself say it.

"Wait a minute. You're tellin' me _all _of our secrets are in _his _head?"

"Yes. Chuck _is _the computer."

"I don't believe it," said the Major with a scowl.

"Well it's true, so eliminating Chuck would probably be counterproductive now. He's useless to anyone dead."

"That's exactly the point," said Casey as easily as if was talking about the weather. "It would be _counterproductive_ if he fell into the wrong hands, if what you say is true."

"Counterproductive, huh?" Sarah and Casey's heads whipped instantly around to face the voice from the darkness. "I can't believe how casually you two talk about the life of another U.S. citizen. My grandfather warned me about people like you…but I was too naïve to believe him," said the clearly distraught voice from the shadows. "It appears I owe Gramps a huge apology."

Sarah's face went white. _Oh, my God! He heard all of that! _ As she peered into the dark around them she could barely make out his features as he hunched in the shadow of a tree about thirty feet from them. Chuck stood up and walked into the light, shaking his head, looking for all the world like someone had just pulled the rug out from under his feet; and Sarah knew that someone was her. And she lost her voice. _What have I done?_

"You people really suck," Chuck said as he walked by. He picked up his pistol out of the dirt and slipped it into a Yaqui Slide on his belt under his shirt, tucking the barrel into his rear jeans pocket, before he headed back into the darkness behind the cabin. "And you have the gall to talk about me like I'm just some kind of a tool because of what Bryce did to me. All of you might as well be robots."

"Chuck," Sarah heard herself croak.

He turned around and faced her, just a silhouette in the shadows. "Stow it, Sarah. I opened the cabin door for you and there's a sleeping bag on one of the bunks. _That_ jerk can stay out here tonight; he'll never be welcome under my roof. I'm beginning to wish I'd missed his vest a little high, right now." Chuck disappeared into the night leaving the two government agents looking at each other like they both knew a civilian had outdone them at their own game.

Sarah, her mouth drawn into a grim line, slowly rose from the bench, and walked toward the cabin.

"Walker, don't you leave me here, or I'll-"

Sarah spun around on the Major. "Or you'll what?" she asked him with venom in her voice, "You already almost shot me. If it hadn't have been for Chuck…" Her voice trailed off at the sudden realization that Chuck had probably saved her life. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Major Casey."

-II-

The cabin was empty. It didn't surprise her. After what had happened and been said around the campfire, she wondered if what little trust he had left in her had been lost forever. She walked over to the bunk on which Chuck had laid out a sleeping bag for her and sat on the edge of it. Her head fell into her hands and she shook. She wanted to cry but the tears just wouldn't come. _Am I really a robot? Have I allowed myself to slip that far from who I once was?_ _What are you going to do now Sarah Walker? _When she asked herself the question she practically spit out the name like an expletive in her mind.

Yet, here she was, still welcome under his roof, and she wondered why. Thinking back about what she had seen Chuck do tonight she wondered why either she or John Casey were even alive right now. _Where did Chuck learn to shoot like that?_ Of course, all Naval Cadet's received firearms and hand-to-hand combat training, but Chuck exhibited a skill with a handgun that seemed to go well beyond that. She shook her head at the memory of how close the bullets were grouped in Casey's vest, and a small smile managed to make its way onto her face when she thought about how much it must hurt. It wouldn't surprise her if the Major had a cracked rib or two. That had to hurt even for a man like John Casey. Chuck could have easily killed him, but he didn't. Sarah wondered if he'd really be able to defend himself with deadly force if he had to. _Chuck isn't a killer. It isn't in him. Yet, he shot John Casey to protect me. Why?_

There was only one logical conclusion when the events of the evening were taken at face value. After all the ghastly things that had happened in the last few hours, after all she had done and said to break his trust; he obviously still felt something for her. The thought warmed her despite the overshadowing despair that was blanketing her. It didn't appear he was coming back, and it made her wonder where he had gone when he walked off into the night. He was giving both of them some space to cool off, and to process what was happening. Maybe there was some hope left, after all. That thought made her heart turn over in her chest. _You have to confront this. You can't ignore it._

Sarah pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed her boss. Langston wasn't going to be happy being called at three-thirty in the morning, but it couldn't wait. "Sir, I'm sorry if I woke you, but John Casey paid us a visit."

On the other end of the call Langston Graham swung his feet out of the bed and into a pair of slippers before he strode from the room under his wife's watchful eye. "It's okay, Agent Walker, are you and the asset alright?"

"Yes sir, _Mr. Bartowski _and I are fine; and so is the Major. But Casey fully intended to kill both Chuck and me." Sarah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground by using Chuck's first name. "I can't take much credit for any of us being alive, sir, Chuck diffused the situation."

"What?" asked the Deputy Director as he sat at his desk in his den, "How did he do _that?"_

"It's a long story sir, but apparently Casey didn't receive any 'knock off' orders from General Beckman. It sounds like he was ordered by the General to sterilize the whole operation."

Graham stared at a picture hanging on his wall. It was a picture of Sarah and his wife and him at a backyard party at their home taken only the summer before. His wife considered Sarah family; the daughter she never had. Sarah was his best field agent and he trusted her judgment unwaveringly. He knew he always had her trust and loyalty. But he had to ask himself if he'd lost some of that trust when he thought about the contingency orders he had given her before sending her to California on this assignment. "Sarah, I spoke with the General right after you called me earlier this evening. She assured me that Major Casey would be called off immediately and retasked to assist you. Where is the Major now?"

"I have him in custody, sir. I don't trust him walking around free right now. Sir, there is new information about Charles Bartowski, and I don't know how it slipped through the cracks. Somehow some very important details about him never made it into his briefing file."

"What are you getting at, Agent Walker?"

"I'll explain sir, but first I need to request some satellite tasking on the area where we're located."

-III-

He sat bundled in a bivouac bag with his back to a rock. The view was spectacular from this mountain peak as he watched the orange ball of the sun start to appear over the eastern edge of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The whole mountain range was cast in a warm glow contrasted by the deep blue high altitude sky giving way to daylight.

Sarah climbed cautiously up to him and stood next to Chuck on the narrow rocky ledge, the cool morning breeze blowing her blonde hair. "How long have you been here?" he asked staring straight ahead.

"Most of the night," she answered quietly, as she sat next to him with her arms huddled around her.

"There's nowhere I can run, is there?"

"Not from us." Sarah gazed into his horribly conflicted eyes for a few seconds, and felt that tightness in her chest that was so foreign to her as she started to shiver a bit in the cold breeze. "Talk to me, Chuck."

Chuck opened the side of the fleece lined bag offering her some of its warmth, which she gladly accepted, wrapping herself in, and snuggling next to him.

"Yesterday I was flying an ag plane, satisfied and contented with where I was in my life in spite of all the crap and heartache that I've tried to put behind me. Now I've been sucked into a world I didn't want any part of because of some computer program from a science fiction story stuck into my head… and I can't figure out why Bryce did this, why he chose me." He looked at her, and the hardness in his eyes felt like a slap to the face forcing her to turn away from them. "What are you going do with me? What happens now?" he asked.

"For now, you go back to your own life," Sarah forced herself to meet his penetrating gaze, "We'll protect you and you'll work with us."

"And my sister, and my friends, are they in danger?"

"Tell them nothing to keep them safe." _Damn it!_

Chuck turned and looked at Sarah wondering if she remembered anything about their conversation about his family that evening. "Sarah, I can't keep this from my sister or Morgan, they're going to figure it out."

"I remember what you said to me, Chuck, and I know it's hard, but you have to." Sarah reached over and squeezed his hand under the sleeping bag. He looked at her, searching her eyes. "I need you to do one more thing for me."

Chuck cocked an eyebrow at her skeptically, "Yeah?"

Sarah gazed back at him unwaveringly, "Trust me, Chuck."

A small smile turned up on his face and Chuck turned to look at the sunrise again. His eyes softened and an expression of quiet resignation filled his face. "What a way to meet a new day," he said wistfully, and Sarah bumped shoulders with him as they sat silently, huddled together on top of the mountain.

Sitting at his computer in his study, Langston Graham looked at the realtime satellite image of a couple wrapped in a blanket perched on the tip of a mountain peak. An uneasy feeling crept over him as he watched them and he thought of his conversation early this morning with the young woman in the image. Sarah was one of his best. But over the last few years she had been through a lot; tasked with some truly dreadful assignments, and taking on some soul-sucking responsibilities in the process. He knew that if she kept it up she would be burned out in a very short time. As much as he valued her as an agent, he didn't want to see her reduced to a shell of her former self. What he was seeing here on the screen gave him pause. But then he looked up to see his own gorgeous wife leaning against the doorframe to his den, looking at him thoughtfully…and he wondered if it really mattered.

"Talk to me, Langston. Is this about Sarah?" his wife asked him.

-IV-

The phone vibrated in his pocket. He'd lost track of how many times it had done that during the night. Now the sun was finally shining on him and relieving the chill that had settled into his bones from sitting out all night in the cold mountain air. He heard footsteps on the gravel behind him and a woman's hand reached into his vest, removed the phone, and placed it open on the bench next to him.

"Major Casey," said a woman's clearly annoyed voice over the speaker, "_Major Casey!"_

John Casey looked at Sarah Walker with a cold stare as she sat down on the bench next to him with the phone between them. "Yes, General, I'm here. Secure, but not alone."

"Where have you been, Major? I've been trying to contact you for hours," said the General in a tone that said her patience had disappeared long ago.

"I couldn't get to my phone, ma'am. Graham's enforcer is here with me."

"Are we on speaker?" asked Beckman suspiciously.

"Yes, General."

"Good morning, General Beckman," said Sarah, coldly.

"Agent Walker? Are you all right? I was concerned that the worst had happened."

_Like hell, you were. _"I'm fine ma'am, and so is the Major."

"And what of the subject, is he still alive?"

_The subject?! Who the hell do you think you are?_ Sarah gave Casey a very cold look conveying what she thought of Beckman's question and apparent expectations. Casey returned her unspoken message with a blank face and a slight shrug of one shoulder. "As far as I know, the subject is still alive, General," he said, evenly.

"Good," replied Beckman, unconvincingly, "The situation has changed, and so have your orders. For now, you will assist Agent Walker in securing and protecting the subject until we can decide what to do with him. I'll contact you once we have a plan in place. Until then you will cooperate fully with Agent Walker and treat... _Mr. Bartowski_ with dignity and respect. And, Major Casey, this comes straight from the top." The general practically spit the last two sentences and then the phone display lit up showing the call had ended.

"Hmng," grunted Casey, staring at the phone, "You want to untie me now, Walker?"

"No, not particularly. Can I count on your cooperation?"

"Orders are orders. I don't disobey them."

"Yeah, apparently not even when they're unlawful," said a disgusted voice behind them, and they turned to see Chuck pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, staring at his feet. Then he turned and walked into the cabin. Sarah looked at Casey and saw the big man's mouth was drawn into a tight line. That one had apparently gotten to him.

"We have some serious damage control to do," said Sarah, with resignation as she untied the ropes and opened Casey's cuffs.

"Hng, speak for yourself, sister," said the Major as he rubbed his wrists and then tenderly touched his chest under his vest with just a hint of a grimace, "I don't think I owe that one anything," he added jerking his chin toward the cabin.

"Yeah, you two are probably close to even," retorted Sarah as she slapped Casey good naturedly on the chest with the back of her hand, causing him to glare back at her through gritted teeth. "But don't think for an instant you and I are," she said with icy cold blue eyes, that didn't match her smile.

Both of them turned again when the door to the cabin slammed shut. They watched Chuck put the padlock back on the door and start walking toward the Super Cub with the picnic bag in his hand and one of his packs over his shoulder. He had replaced the .45 automatic he had been carrying earlier with the big N frame Smith and Wesson .44 magnum revolver Sarah had seen him pack at his house. It hung in a leather cross-draw holster on his belt with a speed loader pouch next to it.

"Where the hell does he think he's going?" asked Casey as they watched Chuck throw the baggage into the back of the Cub and start to climb in.

"Home, I guess." Sarah looked toward the plane with pain clearly registering in her eyes, and met Chuck's gaze through the side window as he reached up to put his headset on. She hastily reached into her waistband and handed Casey his Sig Sauer, "I'll stay with him, I'm sure you can find a ride."

"Hnmg."

Sarah turned and ran to the plane, barely getting in before the engine started. After a very brief run-up, Chuck looked over his shoulder at Sarah to make sure she was belted in, and gave her a sad, thin smile as he raised the door. He pushed the throttle to the stop and the Mistress made an abrupt 'J' turn and accelerated down the hillside with the tail up, not rolling much more than seventy feet, before he jerked the flaps out, and the plane launched into the air.

"Damn, that kid can fly," said Casey, begrudgingly, as he stood on the hilltop and watched the airplane fly away.

-V-

Sarah sat in the back seat of the Cub in silence as they flew back toward the valley. If the tension hadn't been so thick that you wouldn't have been able to cut it with one of her very sharp knives, she might have actually enjoyed the flight. The early morning sun was lighting up the mountains around them in spectacular relief on this crisp, clear, spring day. The air was smooth and free of turbulence. She wished she could say the same for her thoughts; they were a twisted roiling mess. Every couple of minutes Chuck would turn his head to look for traffic or at something on the ground giving her the opportunity to study his face, if only in profile. He avoided looking at her, but when he did, his face didn't show a hint of anger. Mostly it seemed to be showing her pain, confusion, and resignation; the kind of face you might see on a condemned innocent man walking to the gallows in an old western movie.

As they flew along she thought about how Chuck had managed to sneak out of the cabin and eavesdrop on Casey and her unnoticed in the dark. There were so many things she hadn't considered about him that he had showed her with one startling surprise after another. Chuck was a hunter, and he had stalked two trained agents skillfully like they were wild game. She also kept forgetting that he was also almost a Navy Officer, with all the military training that went along with the rest of the exceptional engineering education he had received at Annapolis. She chided herself when she realized she kept underestimating him because of his country upbringing and unassuming charm.

The revelations of his family history gave her pause, also. Not only had Chuck been brought up in an atmosphere of self-reliance on a farm, he had also been apparently well prepared by his family to deal with the harsher realities of life, especially when Sarah considered how he handled a handgun. There was so much more than met the eye about this sometimes awkward looking and lanky young man. And then there was the way he flew an airplane. That truly astounded her. Sarah knew a few pilots in the Company's aviation section, and none of them could hold a candle to Chuck when it came to raw skill and courage in the cockpit. She was sure he would fit perfectly in what now passed for the CIA's old Air America division of specialized aviators.

But the one thing that overrode all those whirling thoughts were the ones that had hit her like a ton of bricks falling from the top of a tall building; the ones that had turned her emotions completely inside out. Thoughts that ignited feelings in her she had never felt before or that had lain long dormant. She didn't know how to deal with them. But she knew she had to. When she looked into Chuck's eyes she knew that he was feeling them too. Despite all the deception and crap she had heaped on him in the last two days he was still showing her something so very special in his eyes every time he looked at her. He seemed to somehow know that she was feeling as trapped by the situation as he was. He'd told her as much around the fire last night. He didn't care about the rules, and he had good cause not to. Sarah couldn't help but wonder where the evening might have led if John Casey hadn't shown up with such awful timing. But it also might have been a huge blessing considering what the NSA agent could have interrupted if he'd shown up only a little while later. She shook that thought from her head. It could have been a disaster. _But maybe it would have been worth it._

A voice was trying to penetrate through her deep contemplation. _Was that Chuck?_

"Sarah? Hello, earth to Sarah." She looked up to see him looking at her curiously.

She shook her head, meeting his eyes, "Yeah, I'm here, Chuck. Sorry, I was lost in thought, there."

"Are you okay?" he asked with genuine concern in his voice.

"I think I'm the one who should be asking _you _that."

"Yeah, well I've definitely had better days," he answered with a short laugh, "But flying is always therapeutic. I'm sorry I've been so quiet. I know this can't be much easier for you either. I understand the difficult position you've been put in."

_Wow. How does he do that? _"Chuck, I'm so sorry I didn't say something to you, but I couldn't; not until I knew what was happening."

"It's okay. It's good to know at least there is someone in my corner." After a pregnant pause, "You are still in my corner, aren't you Sarah?"

_Ouch. How can I blame him for that?_ "Yes, I'm still on your side. Chuck…what I said to Casey last night…I was trying to protect you. I know it didn't seem that way. It was wrong of me to say what I said…you aren't a tool to be used…by anybody. You don't deserve to be treated this way because of what Bryce did."

"So what are we going to do? I don't think Casey's boss agrees with you. I still think she wants me to disappear, and I can't help but think she's still going to try to make that happen."

Chuck felt her hand on his shoulder and a shiver ran up his spine as he turned to look at Sarah's hand and then to her eyes. "Please believe me, Chuck, I'll do everything I can to keep that from happening, and I think I have Deputy Director Graham's full support. I think he'll back whatever decision I make when it comes to your protection."

"What makes you so sure? How do you know you can trust him?"

"I can't explain it Chuck." _How can I explain this to him?_ "I just _know_."

He pursed his lips as he looked at her and then looked down at the foothills below. "Alright, Sarah, I guess I'm just going to have to accept that answer for now. We're almost home. Maybe we can talk some more about this later?"

_Home. If only. _"Yes. We have a lot to talk about. We have some decisions to make" said Sarah with resignation, "And then I'll need to talk to Graham about it."

Chuck nodded, his eyes focused out of the plane as they let down and flew by the farmhouse off to their left a few hundred feet below them. They looked at the house and the animals in the pastures as they passed. Everything looked serene and normal, like just any other Saturday morning as the Super Cub turned over Morgan's house to a final approach over the oat field. They settled to a soft landing on the cut alfalfa and rolled up and through the gate at the end of the strip pulling to a stop next to the barn. Shutting the engine down Chuck hung his headset from the overhead crossbar and removing his cap ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. He felt that now familiar tingle as Sarah placed her hand on the back of his neck and softly caressed the locks on the back of his head. He turned to see her giving him a reassuring smile and he couldn't help himself upon seeing that. He returned the smile when he saw the look in her eyes. "How about we put the Mistress to bed and go make some breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could definitely eat," Sarah said, "Climbing up that mountain after you last night left me with a huge hole in my belly."

"Well, we can't have that," Chuck answered with a smile, "Let's go see if we can do something about filling it."

-VI-

They walked out onto the back patio carrying heaping plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and tall glasses of orange juice. The morning sun was filtering through the grape vines on the arbor above them as they sat next to each other with a view of the pasture and the foothills behind the house. "We make a pretty good breakfast team," said Chuck as he liberally buttered his stack of pancakes.

Sarah smiled coyly at him as she poured maple syrup on her short stack, "Yeah, we do. You're not a bad pancake flipper. I've never seen anyone actually flip them through the air like that. How long did it take you to learn to do that?"

Chuck snickered, "Many a pancake crashed and burned while I learned that. It's just one of the many skills my Mom taught us. She taught Ellie and me how to do that when I was about ten. She said it was an essential breakfast skill, but I think it was mostly about having fun and getting us involved in the kitchen. You should see Ellie flip a crepe." He broke the yoke of his egg and took a bite. "You're not too bad with a fried egg, yourself. Not one broken yoke."

"Thank you, but I got lucky. I usually make a mess of them, but you inspired me."

The corner of one side of his mouth turned up, "Well it's nice to know I can be an inspiration to you about something as mundane as flipping an egg."

_If you only knew. _"Can I ask you a question, Chuck?"

He looked at her thoughtfully, "I guess I can assume it's a sticky one since you're asking for permission."

"Maybe. I'm not sure, really. Where did you learn to shoot like that?" She watched as he frowned and let out a breath in a rush. "I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk it, but I think I owe someone a debt of gratitude. I think you might have saved my life last night."

"Then you can probably thank my Mom and my Grandpa. They both taught Ellie and me to shoot when we were still pretty young. It's simply something you do when you grow up on a farm and raise livestock. Mom was a deadeye with a handgun, and Gramps got me started shooting competitively when I was in high school. Then the Navy got wind of it and put me on the rifle and pistol teams at the Academy. I still shoot steel at the local range every couple of weeks during the off season, and I have a benchrest and a one thousand yard gong down by the creek." Chuck paused and looked contemplatively at his plate as he cut a bite from his stack of pancakes. "Sarah, do you really think Casey would have shot you? I've been second-guessing myself ever since last night. I don't know what happened, but once I flashed – for lack of a better word - on the vest he was wearing and knew I could shoot him without permanent damage my training just sort of took over."

"Well, you may have saved both of us. I think you were right, he was about ready to shoot me."

"And now he's assigned to _protect_ me?"

"Yes, that appears to be what has happened. The Intersect was primarily an NSA project."

"I'm not really sure what to think about having someone assigned to protect me that only hours before was told to kill me."

Sarah's face fell as she looked at her lap, "For the time being Graham wants me to stay close to you until we can be sure of Beckman's motivations."

Chuck looked at the beautiful woman sitting next to him with a pensive expression and pursed his lips. "Sarah, what Casey said about you…about you being assigned to kill me too, about forgetting to get you to answer any questions…" Chuck looked at her with pain on his face, like he didn't want to believe what he had heard, "…about the 'Ice Queen'…Sarah, please, I don't want to think any of that is true. That's not the person I met two days ago."

"Chuck…" Sarah said quietly, "We didn't know what you might be involved in with Bryce. Whether or not you were an enemy agent who would prove to be hostile…I had contingency orders. I knew they would be illegal if you weren't a foreign agent. I couldn't carry them out." she looked up from her lap at him apologetically, "Chuck, the information about your family history was left suspiciously out of my briefing papers for this mission. Someone was trying to cover up some very important details about you…trying to manipulate the situation."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to try to find out. Something just doesn't add up."

"Why did Casey say those things about you? I thought you were all on the same team, especially after 9/11." He couldn't bring himself to say it again. "Why did he call you that?"

Sarah looked away out toward the pasture and the horses grazing, her face an expressionless mask, "Because I have a reputation, Chuck. I'm known as Langston Graham's wild card enforcer, his honey trap, and the ice queen. On a few occasions I've had to do some things I'm not proud of to get the job done. I don't think I deserve the reputation, but it is what it is. The life of a field agent sometimes takes on one of its own, regardless of how we might want be perceived by our peers and superiors. And that leads to negative perceptions from almost everyone else, too. We don't live and work in a vacuum." Sarah turned suddenly, surprised, her eyes narrowing as Chuck quietly laughed.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. Please don't take that the wrong way," Chuck said as he worked to get himself back under control, "Most of the people in my profession have similar issues. Hardly a day goes by where Kyle and I don't have to dispel the myth that what we do is done by guys who belong in a rubber room, or live in a liquor bottle or on drugs when we're not working…or that we're not drunk or on drugs while we're actually working," he added with a chuckle. "The simple truth is we take our job very seriously, and spend a lot of our time doing what we can to manage the risks, so we can come home to our families at the end of the day. We're professionals. Still, there's an undeserved stigma that surrounds our job. It doesn't surprise me to hear you have to fight some similar battles. I think I need to lighten up a bit about my own opinions of what you people do. Ellie and I decided we didn't want that life, but it doesn't mean we don't respect what our parents did…or what you do," he said softly.

Slowly a smile crept back onto Sarah's face as their eyes met. "Well, that might very well mean I'll have two stigmas to fight if things go the way I think they will."

"How so?"

"I'm still going to need a cover job if I'm assigned to you, Chuck."

"Oh. Yeah, I see what you mean," he said as he pushed his plate away from him and looked at his hands on the table. "Maybe we can help each other. It looks like I may have found my way into your life whether I want to, or not." He looked up to see a sad and dejected look on Sarah's face. "Oh, crap, Sarah, that was _not _the way I intended to say that," he said with a sigh, "I meant if I have to be dragged into the spy world, not…your…" He stopped when she reached over and took his hands in hers. "What are we going to do about _this_, Sarah?" he asked looking at their clasped hands.

"I don't know," she answered with a hint of frustration, "But I don't want to give it up. I don't want to go back to where I was before I met you. Wow, it was only a couple of days ago, and already I…" She looked up at him when he gave her hands a squeeze.

"Yeah," said Chuck with a bit of awe.

"Yeah. I've never felt this way before…so suddenly. I honestly don't know _what_ to do, Chuck. Part of me wants to run from it."

"Why?" Was it fear he saw hiding in the back of her eyes? "Please don't run Sarah. There must be some way we can make this work. I don't think I can do this without you…and that's not even a small part of it."

_He needs me? Is that what he said? Nobody ever…not like that. _"I'm staying, Chuck. In fact, I think I'm going to have to move in with you. I don't see how else I can protect you. Not when the nearest house is over half a mile away."

Chuck looked back at their hands again and answered apprehensively, "I understand. I'm definitely not going to move out of my family's home." He looked up to her with a small wry smile. "Not that I'm not receptive to the idea of you moving in. I kind of like the idea. It's just…I don't know how we're going to explain it to people. It's too soon for that...even if we were…you, know…"

"What?" Sarah asked looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"You know…if we're…" He let out his breath with a gasp as he turned beet red and he chuckled. "You know, if we're a...ah…"

"If we're what, Chuck?" she teased.

"You're really going to make me say it, aren't you?"

Sarah just looked back at him intently. She could feel his grip tightening anxiously on her hands.

"Okay, we'll play it your way. If we're an item…a couple; if we've jumped into the deep end," he said searching her eyes for an answer.

"Into the deep end?' she asked with a short giggle.

"Ugh, cut me some slack, okay? Maybe I _have_ been out of circulation for too long, especially when faced with someone…as beautiful, and as extraordinary, as you."

"Do you want to be a couple, Chuck?" _Did I just ask him that?_

He briefly flashed that one sided smile nervously at her, and studied her eyes for a moment; fascinated by the way they had changed to a shade of green in the light filtering through the grape vines. "Yeah. As strange, and as scary as the last couple of days have been, yes, I'd like to give it a try, Sarah Walker."

"A Try?" _Not fair! He just laid it all on the line, don't do that to him!_

"Under the circumstances, and considering how long we've known each other, I thought that was a pretty strong statement of commitment," Chuck said pulling one of his hands away and palming his face with an exasperated sigh. "What do _you _want, Sarah?" he asked lowering his hand and fixing her with a challenging gaze.

She sat there for a moment meeting his gaze, seeing a thousand of her own unsettled emotions reflected in his hazel brown eyes. Real emotions. Deep emotions. Overwhelming emotions. And the next thing she knew, she had pulled herself onto his lap and wrapped her hand behind his neck, looking at a startled expression on his face. "I want to give it a try too, Chuck." _Damn the stupid rules!_

"Really?" he asked with a bit of marvel in his voice.

"Yes, really."

"So what do we do now?" He asked as his hand found the small of her back and it made her breath hitch from the sensation.

"Well, for now, we're going to have to be very careful about it. Do you have a spare room?"

"Yes. There's a guest room next to Ellie's. It's actually very nice."

"Then, for the time being, I should probably 'rent' that room from you," Sarah said, making air quotes with her fingers, "You know, until I can find my own place?" she asked with a wink.

"Find your own place, huh?"

"I hear that there's a severe housing shortage in the area right now. It could take a very long time," Sarah said, with a mirthful smile.

"Well, since you put it that way. I can't have you living in the barn."

"Maybe you could find some room for Casey in there."

"I don't want that man anywhere near my livestock," Chuck answered with a frown. "Besides, that's way too close to the house for comfort."

"You're probably right," Sarah said thoughtfully as a mischievous grin grew on her face. "Is there a hay loft in your barn?"

He looked at her questioningly, "Yes, most barns have a hay loft, you know."

"Then Casey definitely does NOT get to live in the barn."

"What? Why?" Chuck asked, with a confused look on his face.

"Don't tell me you've never had a girl up in the hay loft, Chuck."

His eyes suddenly went wide, "OH! Not since my sophomore year in high school. Jenny Peterson," he answered with a slightly, embarrassed, chuckle.

_Jenny?_ Sarah looked longingly into his eyes, "That is _way_ too long. I've never been in a hay loft, you know." she said softly, as her eyes fell to his lips.

"You're really diving into this country girl thing head first, aren't you?" he asked as his gaze fell to her lips and they moved closer together.

"Let's just say, I'm very curious about it now," Sarah answered breathily as her lips softly met his.

The kiss started out chaste and sweet and slowly became more passionate as Sarah's hand caressed his cheek and Chuck's arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, his hands running up her sides and back. As it deepened, Sarah wove her fingers through Chuck's hair as she ran her tongue gently over his lower lip, and they met in the middle sharing each other's breath in a long open mouthed kiss. They were completely absorbed in it, with their eyes closed, but when they finally broke apart they looked wide eyed at each other for several seconds before their lips met again with fervor.

Slowly, a sound in the distance brought them out of it and they both turned to look over Chuck's shoulder as two black UH-60 Blackhawk helicopters flew low down the creek and flashed by them with a low whining roar and a receding Doppler effect from their engines and rotor blades as they headed west at top speed. They stood up from the chair and, hurrying around the corner of the house onto the south porch almost ran headlong into Morgan, looking for all the world like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Chuck, Sarah, good morning," Morgan exclaimed, "I saw you land. I'm glad to see you made it home, okay. How was Barstow? Did those black helicopters follow you back? Did you run into agents Mulder and Scully at the steak house or something?" he asked, cocking his thumb over his shoulder with a grin.

"Morgan! Hey, buddy," responded Chuck, looking at his friend curiously, "Yeah, we had a great time. No, we didn't have dinner with any FBI agents," he added with a nervous laugh as he exchanged a look with Sarah. "It's not every day we have black helicopters flying through our yard, is it?"

"No…no, that's not an every day occurrence, that's for sure," Chuck's friend answered with a nervous chuckle of his own. "Looks like they're headed for the county airport."

"Yeah, it does. What's up buddy? You feeding the livestock?"

"Yeah, that's done. I was going to go for a ride, but I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to catch the mare now, thanks to those knuckleheads," he said gesturing over his shoulder again. "Did you enjoy your airplane ride with Chuckster, Sarah?" Morgan asked looking at her with an appraising smile.

Sarah pulled her attention away from the receding black rotorcraft and met his gaze, "Yes, I had a great time, Morgan. Your friend is a pretty amazing pilot, and he taught me a thing or two about fishing, too."

"Well, Chuck here is an amazingly multitalented guy, I'm sure you haven't even scratched the surface with him yet," Morgan said looking at her with amusement.

_Okay, buster, just what did you see? _"Yeah, Chuck is definitely full of surprises." Sarah and Chuck exchanged another knowing look, trying not to give too much away in the process, before turning back to Morgan who was looking back and forth between the two of them with a broad smile on his face.

"Ahem. Well. I think I'll go see if I can catch that mare. Ya'll are welcome to come along if you want."

"Thanks for the invitation, pal, but I think we'll save a ride for another day. I have a suspicion that I'll have to clean up the English tack a bit for Sarah. It's been a while since it's been used."

Sarah turned to him in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch. You didn't look like you were unfamiliar with horses the other night," he answered cryptically.

A low humming sound emanated from Sarah's jacket and she reached into her pocket and looked at her phone display with an almost hidden frown. She rolled her eyes at Chuck and held her finger up as she stepped a few paces away from them and began talking in a hushed tone.

Morgan looked at Chuck with a raised eyebrow and a smile. "I'll take that as my cue to skedaddle, dude. You owe me a full report about the date," he added pointing at him.

"Ha! You're only getting the redacted version, buddy."

"Uh, huh. We'll see about that. See ya later, Chuck. I'd tell you to stay out of trouble but I don't think it's going to be easy with that one," Morgan said, with a shake of his head as he walked away.

Chuck looked from his friend to Sarah and the smile disappeared when he saw the expression on her face as she walked over to him, grabbed his hand, and headed toward her Porsche. "What's up?" he asked, "You don't look too happy."

"We have visitors," she said with a quiet voice. "Our friends in those helicopters. I'll explain on the way to the airport." Sarah looked at him curiously as they climbed into her car. "Chuck, who are agents Mulder and Scully?"

* * *

**A/N **Well, where do we go from here? Another act of Chuck Versus the Lost Years shouldn't be too far behind this. My plans two alternate these two stories fell flat on their face.


	6. Confrontations

**A/N **11/10/12 – Here come the heavy's. This chapter isn't titled confrontations for nothing. Poor Chuck is going to get it from all sides.

Thanks to my beta readers on this chapter, my sweet (and dangerous) wife, and **somedeepmystery; **they are both extraordinary and very understanding ladies.

**I don't own Chuck**

* * *

**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 6 - Confrontations**

They drove in silence down the county road toward the Wasco airport, each lost in their own thoughts. As they sped along in Sarah's Porsche, Chuck stared out the window. He was tired, and the fatigue made his mind wander to places he wasn't sure he wanted it to go. He couldn't help thinking about that kiss, all of the kisses, and the way he felt when he was around her, when he held her. As he thought about the last couple of days he wondered if his feelings for this beautiful woman had taken control of him; whether they had gotten the better of him and clouded his judgment. She was a trained intelligence operative; a graduate of the CIA's Farm, and apparently a woman with a reputation that followed her, born of years of field experience. He knew so little about her, but she knew so much about him. As much as he tried not to, he worried that he was being manipulated by someone who was a master at the game of deception. It was eating at him. He didn't want to doubt her, but couldn't help himself. And even with those lingering doubts brought on by the strange circumstances they both found themselves in he knew there was something special happening between Sarah and him. All he had to do was look at her to see it. He stole a glance at her and there it was, in her eyes and on her face. She had said she wanted to be with him, and he wanted so much to believe it was true.

Sarah watched him from the corner of her eye as she drove. He looked tired and haggard and tense. But his hair was an adorable, wild mop blowing in the wind and all she wanted to do was run her hands through it, to do whatever it took to calm him. When she was around him she wanted more, of everything. Chuck's very presence had a profound effect on her that she couldn't explain. Through it all, he had placed his trust in her, and given all that had happened she couldn't help but wonder why. She could tell from watching him and his occasional reluctance to make eye contact that he had his moments of doubt about her, and when it happened it made her heart sink. Sarah took a deep cleansing breath and looked over at him receiving a sheepish smile in return as she caught his eye. She smiled as she thought of Chuck's explanation of the X-Files and agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. The strange story of the two FBI agents only made her wonder what the future might hold for Chuck and her. _God, why do I feel like I'm living in an X-Files episode? Is my life imitating art? _She shook her head ruefully at the thought.

"What?" he asked as he studied the odd smile she wore.

"I was just thinking about that TV show," she deflected, as the smile turned into a guarded grin, "Were Fox and Dana an item?"

"Huh?" Chuck looked at her curiously. "I guess that depends on who you ask. I always thought they were, but it was never overtly shown. It's generally accepted that they got together at the very end and even had a child together. Up to that point there was mostly a lot of sexual tension and allusion to a deeper attraction." He broke eye contact and his cheeks reddened. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm trying to figure out how you and I got where we are and how we can make all of this work. Did they trust each other?"

"Yes, very much," he said, without hesitation. "The biggest obstacle between them was the difference in what they each believed the truth was."

Sarah pursed her lips as she looked down the road toward the airport. Even though she knew he was talking about a TV show she could see the hidden message in his answer. Asking Chuck to trust her and her version of the truth was not going to be enough. She was going to have to demonstrate that she was worthy of it through her actions while somehow still walking on the tightrope they both found themselves on together. She couldn't treat him like a mark or an asset and ever expect to earn that trust, and she knew his trust was something she would have to work for. As she turned through the airport gate and saw the two Blackhawk helicopters parked on the ramp she realized that that work would begin right here and now. "Things might get a little tense here, Chuck. Try to stay calm, okay?" she said as she turned and looked at him intently.

"I'll try to follow your lead," he answered as one corner of his mouth turned up. He had that look on his face again. The look of resignation to his fate he'd had on the flight home from the cabin.

_Crap. He's worried I'm going to turn him over to them! What if I can't prevent that? _She placed her hand on his. "We'll get through this, Chuck," she said, as much for her own benefit as his. She watched him return a stoic smile while taking a deep breath, and then immediately tense up again as she took her hand away and pulled the car to a stop in front of the Flying B Aviation office.

Several very large men in black tactical garb stood outside one of the helicopters. They all were wearing sidearms and one of them had a very heavily accessorized M-4 carbine with an integral sound suppressor on it, hanging across his chest on a single point sling. It was a very wicked looking weapon, and the man's eyes were focused on Chuck. Looking closer they both recognized one of the men. It was John Casey. As they walked toward the helicopters Chuck noticed several other men in flight suits loitering near the helicopters. Then his eye caught movement in his peripheral vision and he turned to see two more men in flight suits walking around one of his Air Tractor's examining the airframe. He couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face. _Pilots just can't help themselves. If it flies they have to take a closer look at it._

He turned back to the helicopters just in time to see four people step down from the side door of the chopper that was surrounded by the men in black. They were all wearing tiger striped battle dress uniforms in subdued shades of sage green and grays. It was a pattern Chuck had never seen before. One of them was a woman not much more than five feet tall with her red hair wrapped in a tight bun. On her jacket collar were the stars of a brigadier general, and tapes that said 'U.S. Air Force' and 'Beckman' were over the two top pockets. She had a very stern looking countenance. _So this is General Beckman, _thought Chuck, as he studied her.

One of the other three was an Air Force Major, a tall, dark, lean, and observant man that Chuck immediately assumed was the General's adjutant since he was carrying a nylon camouflaged briefcase. The remaining two were very fit looking young men decked out in full battle dress with maroon berets, carrying suppressed Heckler and Koch MP5 SD submachine guns. As they approached Chuck recognized the flash of the Air Force Pararescueman's insignia on their shoulders and berets. John Casey and two of the men in black joined General Beckman as she strode up to Chuck and Sarah.

"Keep your hands visible," said Sarah, quietly to him as they walked up to the group.

Chuck complied and gulped loudly, his eyes moving from the General to her mean looking escort and the weapons they held, not quite trained on him and Sarah.

The general stopped a few paces away from them and sized them up with a scowl on her face. "Agent Walker," she said frostily in greeting.

"General Beckman, ma'am," replied Sarah evenly, "I'm surprised to see you here. You don't get out of D.C. much these days."

The General's eyes narrowed as she looked hard at Sarah. "Agent Walker, apparently you have friends in very high places. I received orders directly from the DNI to come here and _discuss _with you how to handle the predicament the_ subject _and agent Larkin have put all of us in." The General wouldn't even acknowledge Chuck's presence as she continued, "If I had my choice, _Mr. Bartowski," _she said with venom, "would be in a bunker in protective custody at Fort Meade. But it seems his name is well known by the Director and several very highly placed officials, including CIA Director Shepard. Your report to Deputy Director Graham last night prompted the DNI to reopen some extremely compartmented classified files of which I haven't yet had the opportunity to see. I have no idea why they would have so much interest in a Naval Academy washout but I've been ordered to see to it that somehow his current life stays intact… such as it is," she added, disdainfully, as she surveyed the airport with disgust in her eyes.

"So what does the Director propose that we do?" asked Sarah a little surprised as she glanced curiously at Chuck, "Do you have a plan? Or are you asking for recommendations from me based on my field observations?"

"As I said, I have orders to discuss and review our options, within the parameters I've been given, and I don't like any of them one bit." Beckman looked at Major Casey and the Air Force Major standing next to her briefly and shook her head with irritation. "Is there somewhere we can talk? This meeting shouldn't be conducted on an airport ramp."

Sarah looked at Chuck questioningly. She could see he was upset about the conversation that was taking place as if he wasn't even there. He gazed back at her and shrugged. He didn't want the General and her men in his office snooping around, and the place was currently an uncharacteristic mess. "You can talk in the hangar," he said with a hint of anger in his voice, "there should be enough privacy in there. There's no one else on the airport today or within a mile of us, so, this way, please," he added, with a sweep of his hand toward the large maintenance hangar.

As Chuck started to lead the group towards the hangar the general's armed escort raised their weapons at the sound of a loud pop coming from the road. They all fixed their eyes on the entry to the airport to see an old beat up, orange, late 1970's Dodge Power Wagon drive on to the ramp headed right for them. It was hard to tell which parts of the orange truck were paint and which parts were rust. As it slowed to a grinding halt in front of them it backfired again, and then dieseled for several seconds before the engine finally stopped with a loud clatter. The general's bodyguard's lowered their weapons when she gave them a wordless signal with her eyes and a subtle nod of her head.

Two unusual looking men got out of the pickup and looked at Chuck incredulously. The dark haired, dark complexioned man wearing an untucked short sleeve madras shirt, tattered jeans, and flip flops spoke first. "Chuck, my man, what is the Gestapo doing at the Wasco County Airport? Shouldn't they be penned up on a military reservation somewhere playing wargames, or whatever it is that warmongers do?"

Chuck watched with a bit of mild amusement as Casey and the rest of the General's escort bristled and Beckman cleared her throat. "_Mr. Bartowski_, who are these... _men_?" she asked with more than a tinge of offense in her voice.

To his own surprise, Chuck looked at the General apologetically and held up his finger. "Just give a minute, ma'am, I'll take care of it." He looked back at the two men who had crashed the general's party and sighed, "Lester, Jeff, what can I do for you today? Do you have some spray work that needs to be done? Did the job on the melons turn out okay?"

"No, no, our crops are doing fine, and the cantaloupe look great, Chuck," said Lester, as he watched his red-eyed partner sway. "We just saw those black helicopters land and thought we should come check it out. Are you associating with brownshirts now, Chuck? We thought you didn't like the _man_ much."

"Yeah dude, what's the matter with you? You lookin' to get a bad rep with us organic farmers?" asked the bleary eyed man with wild blondish-orange hair, wearing a tattered rock band t-shirt, dirty overalls, and Birkenstocks.

"Look, guys, this is probably a bad time to be talking about this. You fellas know how important your business is to me, and all the business of your fellow organic growers. Can we talk about this later?"

Her curiosity peaked; Sarah walked over and took in the sight of Chuck and his two customers, trying to hide her amusement. "Is everything okay here, Chuck?"

"Whoa, Chuck, dude, who is the hottie, and what the heck is she doing with _you_?" said Jeff, with a lecherous slur, and a wild-eyed grin. "We thought you were celibate."

Chuck exchanged an awkward and slightly embarrassed look with Sarah, and then glanced over his shoulder at a very peeved General Beckman. He pursed his lips, and looking down, tapped the toe of his cowboy boot on the asphalt several times. "Guys, I want you to meet my new pilot. This is Sarah."

"What? You've got to be kidding me," said Lester with stark disbelief.

"Hubba, hubba," said Jeff with a leer; "she can dust my melons any time, Chuck."

Chuck looked over his shoulder again and almost laughed at the sight of General Beckman's and John Casey's mouths hanging open. To her credit, Sarah was rolling with it and wearing a thin, embarrassed smile. "Look guys, show the lady some respect, or I'll have to ask you to stay away from the flight line when she's around. I value your business, but I have to draw the line somewhere."

"Really, a lady ag pilot, Chuck? What planet did you move to?" said Lester mockingly.

"Really, isn't that more than a little bit sexist Lester?" Chuck retorted, "I'll bet your liberal friends would skin you alive if they heard you say that. I think you owe the lady an apology. Or maybe I should have a word or two with your associates about your parochial attitude. I'd hate to have you guys miss the Memorial Day barbecue because your friends decided they didn't want you there, you bein' the life of the party, and all."

Lester's eyes went wide at Chuck's challenge and he settled his eyes on Sarah contritely. "You're right, Chuck. That was totally uncalled for. We'll be on our best behavior for your gal 'Friday'," he said, gesturing with air quotes.

Chuck sighed, "Lester, get a grip. You're not scoring any points, and I'm still the best deal around for your organic tomatoes."

"Okay, okay, Chuck. I'm backing down. But do you want to explain why you have the military here? I'm sure some of our mutual friends would have a field day with that."

"We're discussing an off-season research contract to study the air quality impact of military operations here in the valley. They asked us to help them assess the impact by using aerial monitoring equipment. If it helps to keep your application fees stable maybe you should consider cutting these people a little slack," Chuck replied, not skipping a beat.

Lester Patel rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Alright, Chuck. We're onboard with that. I'm all for higher profits, and I suppose I'm glad to hear the military industrial complex is concerned about our air quality."

"I'm happy to hear that, Lester. Maybe you'll actually think about it yourself, and do something about registering that truck, and maybe getting a smog check?" said Chuck with a bit of acid in his voice.

"Touche', Mr. Bartowski." Lester looked at his partner who had been staring at Sarah through the whole conversation and smiled. "C'mon, Jeffrey, as much as I hate to admit it, we've overstayed our welcome, and we need to check on your medicinal crop."

Jeff looked at his partner with manic eyes, "Time to get the mind right." He said, nodding enthusiastically.

They climbed back into their beat up Dodge truck and turned to leave. As they passed Chuck and Sarah, Jeff leaned out the open passenger window and shouted, "You can dust my organic nuts any day, Sarah, if you know what I mean!"

Chuck palmed his face as Sarah snerked through a shocked expression on her face. "I hope all your customers aren't like Jeff," she said, through a suppressed derisive laugh.

"No," replied Chuck looking up at her through his fingers, "Jeff and lester are rather unique, even among the organic growers."

"I thought you handled that well," whispered Sarah, back to him.

"Yeah, everything except the bald-faced lie."

"Ahem," exclaimed General, "If you don't mind, I'd like to get this charade over with." Then she gave Chuck a critical and appraising look. "Well done with the cover Mr. Bartowski, you seem to think well on your feet." But the comment sounded strangely uncomplimentary.

-II-

They walked through the side door into the large hangar that served as Mac McConnelly's office and base of operations at Flying B Aviation. Chuck turned on the overhead lights and gestured to a round table surrounded by six chairs in the front corner of the space near the door. But instead of looking at the table and taking an offered seat, all eyes were on the airplanes. Arrayed around the tidy hangar on an epoxy floor so clean you could have eaten off of it were three very nice aircraft. Two of them, parked in the corners of the hangar, had the Flying B logo on the vertical tail fins. In one of the rear corners was an Extra 300L unlimited aerobatic monoplane with a very splashy red, white, and blue paint job. Tucked in the other rear corner of the hangar sat a Cessna 210J. But what everyone was staring at, sitting prominently in the center of the space, was a very sleek, clipped winged P-51 Mustang. The airplane had an ice blue multi-hued paint job and stylized snowflakes streaking over the wings and down the sides of the fuselage. The race numbers 007 on the tail and wings and the name '_Frost Queen_' were airbrushed on the airframe. The angular paint scheme and the way the colors blended across the fuselage and wings from light to dark blue, absolutely screamed speed. "What the hell, Chuck?" exclaimed Sarah, when she looked at the name Chuck Bartowski painted below the small aerodynamic canopy, "Is this a racing plane?"

"I'm a pilot," answered Chuck matter-of-factly, "What did you think I do for fun, collect antique motorcycles?" he asked with a grin.

Everyone stared in shock alternating between the plane and him as he stood next to the table and waited.

Finally one of the PJ's escorting the General said, "You're the dude that broke the lap record at Reno two years ago, aren't you?"

"What?" said Beckman loudly, with disbelief.

"Yeah, look," said the PJ pointing to the side of the fuselage with the barrel of his MP5. Below the six exhaust stacks on the cowl was painted, 'National Championship Air Races Unlimited Gold Cup & Lap Record 508.035 mph, Sept. 18, 2005'

"Hmhg," Casey grunted, with a tone that sounded like surprise.

"Oh, sweet, Jesus," said the General as she brought her hand to her forehead, "You're famous?"

"Only in certain circles," answered Chuck, modestly, "Air racing isn't the national pastime that it once was."

"Holy shit, dude," exclaimed the PJ, drawing a glare from Beckman, "You're the second youngest pilot to ever win the unlimited gold cup. My son idolizes you. Can I get an autograph for him?"

"Sure. I'd be happy to, just a second." Chuck walked to a drawer in some cabinets behind the table and pulled out a glossy photograph from a stack along with a Sharpie felt tipped pen. It was a picture of the P-51 flying past the finish pylon panned in a way that froze the plane sharply against the blurred pylon and background. "What's your son's name?" he asked, as several faces stared at him.

"Curtis."

"Okay." Chuck placed the photo on the table and wrote - _To Curtis- Fly low, fly fast, turn left! - _in crisp engineer's printing across the sky on the photo and signed his name with the race number 007 behind it. "Here you go, I hope your son likes it."

"Oh, I assure you, Chuck, he's going to love it!"

The general cleared her throat loudly, "Are you done Lieutenant? Would it be all right with you now if we got on with this meeting, or are there other race fans in your family?" she asked, sarcastically, as she glared at him.

The pararescueman snapped to attention and stared straight ahead, "Begging the General's pardon, ma'am, I'm sorry, I got caught up in the moment. It won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't. At ease Lieutenant," said Beckman acerbically, "Do you have any other surprises that haven't made their way into your apparently severely outdated dossier, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Not being privy to the government's classified documents on me, I wouldn't know ma'am," answered Chuck, politely.

_So you haven't figured out how to access your own file yet. _"Damn. It's no wonder we were told to back off. I so much want to have Bryce Larkin's head on my office wall right now," she said, with exasperation.

Chuck looked over at Sarah, and for a few seconds he tried to decipher the look on her face as she stared at him. Her face was an expressionless mask and her lips were a tight line as she peeked at the picture the PJ was holding in his hand. _Is she mad at me? Why would she be mad at me? _She blinked and looked away when she saw the look of confusion on his face.

"Please, have a seat," said Chuck to the General as he shook his head and pulled a chair out for her, "I'd like to get this over with as much as you would."

The General's eyes settled on him with a hard expression and she sat down with her adjutant and Major Casey flanking her. Chuck pulled out another chair next to him and looked at Sarah, raising an eyebrow when she hesitated. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she cocked an eyebrow in return and raised one shoulder a bit, before she finally walked over and sat down next to him. Chuck then slid her chair in for her. This didn't go unnoticed by the General and she looked at him curiously. General Beckman looked around the table and then at the rest of the security detail. "I need everyone to clear the room except for Major Casey, Major Shaw, and Agent Walker," she ordered. She watched while her security detail filed out the door and it closed before she began speaking.

"Mr. Bartowski, I realize you didn't ask for any of this," said General Beckman with her hands flat on the table in front of her, "But whether you like it or not, you have become embroiled in a national security scandal. Your friend Bryce-"

"Bryce is not my friend," interrupted Chuck looking at the table in front of him, "The son-of-a-bitch got me kicked out of Annapolis for something I didn't do. He stole my fiancé away from me. He's done nothing but turn my life upside down, and now it looks like he's done it again."

_Fiancé?_

"Show some respect to the General, Bartowski," growled Casey, "if you interrupt her again-"

"I'll show the General some respect when she's earned it, _Major," _Chuck spat back, looking Casey in the eye, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a member of the military. The Captain's Mast at the Academy saw to that, and on the slimmest of evidence. And the General put out a _hit _on me, so I'm not feeling too warm and fuzzy about giving her any respect at the moment."

The Major rose quickly from his seat and slapped both his palms on the table, leaning toward Chuck with a menacing glare. Chuck reflexively leaned back in his chair, his eyes going wide, as Sarah placed her hand on his forearm, giving him a piercing look of warning, attempting to mask the shock in her eyes. The General was fuming, but grabbed Casey by the elbow, "Sit, _down, _Major," she commanded. Casey slowly settled back in his chair giving Chuck a look that could kill.

Diane Beckman leveled stony eyes on Chuck, "_Mr. _Bartowski. As I was starting to say before you so rudely interrupted, Agent Larkin has pulled you into a national security emergency, and the nature of the emergency gives us no choice but to conscript you into the operation. If what I'm hearing is true, you are the only source of some of our most important intelligence data. The Intersect was created to cross-correlate and find patterns from a wide variety of intelligence sources. Now it has been destroyed at the hands of Bryce Larkin and he sent the only copy of the database and program to you."

Chuck looked back at her crestfallen, "Why did he do this? Why me? I'm a reasonably talented engineer, but there have to be others more talented than me that are already members of the intelligence community. Why send it to someone with no ties at all to the program?" Chuck looked at Sarah and she avoided his gaze looking at the table in front of her. _What the…?_

"We don't know why he chose you," continued the General, "Agent Larkin was working undercover at the time of his disappearance and when he sent you the Intersect before destroying the lab. We haven't been able to find a trace of him since."

"Then why is there a sanction order on him? Seems to me he'd be a valuable source of information and be able to shed some light onto what's going on."

"Because up until this point in time all evidence pointed to him having gone rogue. I can't divulge more than that at this time," said the General, flatly.

"Why does none of this surprise me," Chuck responded, his voice dripping with irony, "I really hate you Bryce," he muttered under his breath, drawing a quiet grunt from Casey.

Sarah looked up at him sharply. Chuck could see something in her eyes, something unspoken. "General what does the DNI have in mind for Mr. Bartowski?", she asked, "What exactly do you mean by conscript him?"

"For the time being, Mr. Bartowski will be assigned a security detail to ensure his safety. You and Major Casey will be the leads on that since you've already been read-in on the Intersect program and know Mr. Bartowski's identity. We can't afford the risk of too many more knowing about him." The general let her hard gaze travel around the table. For a moment she appeared to be lost in thought, then she looked at her adjutant, "Major Shaw, I'm going to have to ask you to leave also. Wait for me back at the helo." Her adjutant looked at her curiously then started to get up from the table. "Leave the intel Major," she added as her adjutant started to reach for the briefcase at his side. The Major shot her a quick sideways glance and set the briefcase on the table before turning to leave.

Once her adjutant had left the hangar the General opened the briefcase on the table in front of her and pulled out several files with red and white striped tape across them stamped 'Top Secret'. "Mr. Bartowski, I want you to have a look at these files."

"What on earth for? I'm not cleared for that stuff," said Chuck, hesitantly.

"You're cleared for them now. Just humor me, and have a look at them," ordered the General with a scowl.

Chuck started to leaf through the files looking at the headers and skimming through the dossiers and intelligence data. It all seemed like uncorrelated gibberish to him until he saw the photo of a bearded man in an Afghan Shemagh, then all hell broke loose in his brain. It felt like someone had struck him with a hammer and his head was vibrating in D flat. He saw an image of the man and several other men flash through his mind, opium fields, fifty-five gallon drums filled with cash, and handheld antiaircraft rocket launchers. The images were framed by a nondescript image of a surfboard stuck in the sand, of all things. He looked up from the file and shook his head as he rubbed his temples, "Whoa…"

"What the hell just happened there?" said John Casey, as he stared perplexedly at Chuck.

"That is one very bad man," exclaimed Chuck, still rubbing his head with his fingertips. "General, Majeed Khurana is selling Stinger missiles to several insurgent groups who have intentions of smuggling some of them into the states. The missiles are on a container ship with a Liberian registry - the Trade Winds."

"What?" asked Casey, incredulously, "How do you know this?"

"I don't know how I know, I just know, okay?!" replied Chuck with distress in his voice.

"This is precisely how the human Intersect is supposed to work," said the General, unceremoniously. She gathered up the files and put them back in the briefcase before interlinking her hands in front of her on the table and looking at Chuck appraisingly. "Mr. Bartowski, until further notice you'll be reviewing more files like that on a daily basis and debriefing with either Agent Walker or Major Casey on your findings. I'll expect reports filed every three days unless any uncovered intel requires sooner notification. Until we can set up a method to do this electronically, you will be receiving courier packets every one to three days. Is that clear?"

"General, my work season is just starting to ramp up, where am I going to find the time to do all this?"

"That is your problem, Mr. Bartowski. I don't anticipate this taking more than a few hours a day, but you will have to work it into your schedule. If I have my way you will no longer be flying an ag plane. It's too great of a risk for the only existing Intersect."

"With all due respect ma'am, I make my living flying an ag plane, I can't just quit unless the government is planning on paying my bills, and I'm not going to quit flying airplanes just to keep your precious Intersect safe."

"Well it seems to me you've already hired another pilot to help with the work load," retorted the General, as she looked pointedly at Sarah, "and you might not have a say in the matter about staying in the cockpit."

Chuck bristled and stared at General Beckman with fire in his eyes, "Like hell, I wo-"

"Chuck," said Sarah quietly as she grabbed his forearm, "don't go there. We'll figure something out, okay?" Chuck looked over at her and exhaled sharply as his fists balled up in his lap.

"Thank you Agent Walker," said the General patronizingly, "I'm glad the asset is willing to listen to you. In the meantime we'll need to figure out some security arrangements for the asset and covers for you and the Major, although it looks like you already have one."

_If you use that word one more time, I swear…_ "I think I may already have a plan in place, General. But I'll have to set up some of the details with Deputy Director Graham. For starters I'll be staying with Chuck in a spare room in his house and I believe I have some ideas for lodging and a cover for the Major and a larger cover for the whole operation. I'll consult with him and Mr. Bartowski on it when we're done here and report to DD Graham by tonight."

The General's brow knit together as she studied Sarah,and her mouth drew together in a line, "Very well, Agent Walker. I want you and Major Casey to keep the asset under twenty-four surveillance until further notice. Though, I would prefer that Major Casey stay with him."

_Damn you! I'm sure you would. _"_Mr. Bartowski_ will not agree to that, ma'am," Sarah replied quickly as she felt the muscles in Chuck's arm tense under her hand, "Major Casey and Mr. Bartowski have obvious trust issues right now, and we probably won't be able to sell it to Chuck's friends and family because of it. I stand by my initial recommendation to guard Chuck at his home, and I have Graham's backing on it. I believe we can arrange for Major Casey to stay in the caretaker's house for the time being. It's the closest comfortable accommodations to the Bartowski house. Until such time as that can be arranged I suggest the Major stay in a motor unit near the house."

Chuck looked at Sarah, then closed his eyes and groaned, "Morgan is going to freak out. I'll never hear the end of it."

Major Casey sat stone-faced staring at Sarah. She concluded that he didn't want to be staying in Chuck's house any more than Chuck wanted him there. In fact, he was probably pissed about the whole assignment. And Sarah knew John Casey would eventually have something to say about it that she wouldn't like.

"Alright, Agent Walker. I hope you realize selling your stay at Mr. Bartowski's house might involve a more intimate cover," Beckman said with an almost imperceptible smirk.

_I'm counting on it. "_I understand ma'am. We'll cross that bridge when or if we come to it," said Sarah, with her best poker face.

"I don't like the idea one bit but I'll let you take point on this and make the necessary arrangements. An agency analyst will have to have a look at Mr. Bartowski's computers to ascertain if the Intersect database is indeed lost, and we would like to arrange for an agency doctor to evaluate Mr. Bartowski in a few days."

"We'll be ready for them ma'am," replied Sarah with a squeeze of her hand on Chuck's arm.

"Then we're done here, for the time being," said the General brusquely as she rose and walked to the door. She paused for a second as she opened the door. "Agent Walker and Major Casey, I'd like a word in private before I head back to Edwards. I'll be at my helicopter."

"Yes ma'am," replied the Major and Sarah as they rose and Sarah gave Chuck a subtle apologetic glance, as he politely rose from his seat with her.

Chuck watched as Casey and Sarah walked to the door. As his chin fell to his chest and he gazed thoughtfully at his feet he heard Sarah clear her throat and he looked up to see her standing in the doorway, her blonde hair glowing from the mid-morning sun pouring through the door opening. "_We _are going to have a talk about that thing, Chuck" she said, pointing at the 'Frost Queen', her face once again veiled from emotion, before she turned and left.

-III-

Chuck sat on the deck in front of the Flying B offices in the porch swing, watching the General and Sarah and Casey consult in front of the general's helicopter. He had missed most of the conversation because as soon as he tried to leave the hangar he was waylaid by the helicopter crews asking for autographed pictures and a look at the 'Frost Queen'. Now, even from across the ramp, he could see the tension in Sarah's body language. He knew she was trained to not show these things and did an admirable job of not displaying it, but he was quickly picking up on her subtle tells the more he studied her. And he couldn't help but study her closely. In many ways because of her secretive nature, close observation was the only thing he had to go on. He watched as the conversation ended, and rose from his seat as Sarah strode purposefully toward him. John Casey climbed into a black SUV with two other men and drove off out the airport gate.

"C'mon, Chuck, let's get the hell out of here," Sarah stated flatly as she walked to her car. The helicopters engines started to spool up as he got in and Sarah pulled away briskly with a screech of rubber while he struggled with his seat belt.

_Keep the __**subject**__ compliant using whatever means necessary. You bitch! Who the hell keeps __**you**__ compliant? _As Sarah thought about that - while trying to concentrate on her driving - she remembered the general's admission that she, Sarah, had friends in high places. But she was starting to wonder if the person with the most friends up top was actually Chuck. Someone was obviously trying to keep General Beckman on a leash. She needed to know who that was, and why. Sarah stole a quick glimpse at the source of her currently tumbled emotions and noticed him studying her with concern written all over his face.

"Not a good meeting, huh?" he asked, trying to smile.

Sarah turned to him and smiled pensively._ God, he tries to find the humor in everything. I wish I could do that. Maybe I can get him to give me some lessons. _"Let's just say Diane Beckman has some serious control issues."

Chuck let out a short laugh, "She's a general, Sarah, it goes with the job."

Sarah felt herself relax and chuckled, "Yeah I suppose you're right, but we have to be very careful around her… and if I hear her call you the 'subject' or the 'asset' one more time…" She looked over to see Chuck beaming at her and felt herself flush.

"Thank you, Sarah. I can hear the sincerity in your voice when you say that. It means a lot."

_He still doesn't trust me completely. _She sighed as her eyes turned toward the road again, "I have to make a stop at the hotel to get my things. Then we'll head back to your house and I'll tell you about my plan, okay?"

"Okay. I kind of figured that since you were heading to Bakersfield," he said with a lopsided grin.

They pulled into the lot at the extended stay hotel and Chuck watched as Sarah went quickly up to her room and came back down the steps with two small duffels, a notebook computer case, and a garment bag that she tossed into the back seat. "That's it? That's all you have?"

"I pack light," said Sarah as she climbed back into the Porsche and headed to the highway, "The life of a CIA agent means that we often have to travel on a moment's notice, so it's not sensible to travel with a steamer trunk."

"Ha! Yeah, I could see where that would be a problem running through an airport trying to catch your flight," Chuck quipped.

"At some point I'm going to have to shop for some more clothes. I may enlist your help with that. I need to find some things appropriate for the cover."

"I'd be happy to help, but maybe Ellie might be a better choice. I think she has much better women's fashion sense than I do. Actually better fashion sense overall. She often drags me out to go shopping for my own clothes. Which reminds me, I really need to call her, or something other than a short text. She's only sent me about a dozen of them - texts that is - since Thursday evening. I think Morgan and her have been talking."

"Morgan," said Sarah, shaking her head, "He seems to really look out for you. You think he's told your sister about me, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Morgan and I have been best friends since kindergarten, and yes, he's definitely told my sister about you."

"I'm looking forward to meeting Ellie," said Sarah, as her lower lip pinched between her teeth, "How does your sister feel about that racing plane?" she asked, casting a sideways glance his way.

"Are you mad about that? You didn't seem very pleased when you saw it."

"Isn't that a very dangerous sport? I have a hard time picturing you doing something like that, Chuck. The name of the plane also made me feel a little uncomfortable," she admitted. "And I guess I was a little surprised that you didn't tell me about it."

"Well, it never really came up, did it? And you didn't exactly ask me about what we kept in the hangar. I would have told you if you'd asked. Can't say you would have been as forthcoming," he added with a little irritation.

Sarah sighed and looked at him guardedly, "I suppose I had that coming, didn't I? I'm sorry I've been so secretive, Chuck. I have a difficult time talking about myself and I know I can be evasive. I'll try my best to answer any questions you have in the future, okay?" She reached across the console and took his hand giving it a squeeze.

"Okay, Sarah," he said, pursing his lips, and sitting quietly for a moment. "Ellie wasn't exactly excited about my racing either," he finally said, softly.

"How did you get started doing that?" She looked at him apologetically, "I'm sorry, here I go asking all the questions, again…"

He chuckled back, "It's alright. How else are we going to get to know each other better if we don't ask them? The answer is not a short one, though."

"I think we have time," said Sarah with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess we do," he said taking a deep breath. "Air racing is actually a fairly common hobby with crop duster pilots here in the valley. There are several racing planes based at Minter Field, not far from here, and most of them are owned by ag pilots. My grandpa was a member of the group of original organizers of the Reno Air Races back in 1964. He bought that P-51 and twelve Rolls Royce Merlin engines for a song at an auction in 1962. The plane is worth almost seventy times what he paid for it now. I almost sold her after Dad died and I got kicked out of the Academy. I was going through a rough spot financially because the business sat idle for several months before I took it back on. My crew talked me into keeping the Frost Queen and took a pay cut to allow me to keep her. It worked out great for them in the end since my solution to the problem at the time was to set up a bonus and profit sharing plan."

_He does seem to have a way of looking out for his friends and employees. _"How did the plane get that name? It was a bit of a jolt when I saw that."

"Yeah, sorry about that… how was I to know?"

"It's alright, I understand," she answered, stroking his hand in circles with her thumb.

He smiled at her sheepishly and turned his hand over to clasp hers, intertwining their fingers. "My Mom used to tell me this bedtime story about the Frost Queen when I was a youngster. It was a fantasy adventure, with a bit of romance thrown in. She told the story so well that even the romance parts were fun for a little boy. I never forgot it. I'll probably be able to recite it to my own kids effortlessly." Chuck gulped and felt the color rise up his neck as Sarah's eyes went wide and she gripped his hand.

He cleared his throat, looking away embarrassed, and then continued, "When Gramps and my Dad raced the P-51 she was called the Silver Bullet because she was all polished out aluminum. I renamed the plane the Frost Queen to honor my mom when I decided to race her in the fall of 2005. That's also why I chose that race number. We won the gold race and set the lap record in her our first year at Reno. I guess I had something to prove to myself, and it helped take my mind off all the crap I was going through at the time. When you're flying an airplane fifty feet off the desert floor at five hundred miles per hour trying to keep from cutting pylons or hitting another plane, you don't have a lot of time to think about the things that are bugging you. It was good therapy, and I think Ellie understood that. Anyway, we've been a fixture at Reno ever since, and as much as Ellie hates me doing it; she's my crew chief and public relations spokesperson… along with Morgan, of course. He talks about it to _anyone _who will listen," Chuck added with a roll of his eyes.

Sarah looked at their hands clasped together on the console and bit her lower lip. "I hope you understand that Beckman is going to fight you tooth-and-nail about going to Reno to race that plane. I doubt my boss will understand, either."

"Yeah, I thought about that. I understand. But I hope you appreciate how hard I'm going to fight to keep my life intact. I'm not going to give up the things that are important to me that easily. And I'm not going to let Bryce Larkin try to ruin my life..not again. The only positive thing I can say about all this is that he brought you into it. For that, I am very grateful," he said looking at her earnestly.

Sarah turned and gazed into his eyes as she took a deep breath. _I __**have **__to show him that note. I can't keep it from him any longer. _

Sarah pulled her car over to the side of the road and watched as Chuck looked at her with surprised curiosity, "Sarah? What's up? Why did you pull over?"

And he was pleasantly shocked when she launched herself across the console to hug him and give him an ardent kiss.

-IV-

When Sarah stopped her car in front of Chuck's house, he quickly reached into the back seat and grabbed her bags before she could, receiving a slight one-sided smirk in return for his efforts. "I'm not helpless, you know."

"Oh, I'm sure you're not, but my parents taught me the right way to treat a lady," he answered as he let her lead the way up the steps, "Besides this way your hands are free in case you have to use Kung Fu on anyone."

"You may have a point there, but if you don't knock it off I might start using Kung Fu on you. You're going to spoil me."

"Promises, promises," He said with a soft laugh, "Maybe it's about time someone pampered you, anyway. Might as well be me."

Sarah looked up at Chuck as he set a bag down and reached around her to open the door. Her mouth fell open just slightly and her eyes sparkled as they met his. "I might be able to get used to that," she breathed.

Chuck blinked and pried his eyes away from her lips. "I'll tell you what then, let's get the pampering off to a proper start. Let me show you your room and I'll fetch some towels for you so you can take a shower… unless you'd prefer a bubble bath," he said, giving her the Bartowski smile.

"Oh, a bath would be so nice right now. It's been far too long."

"Hmph, the last couple of days have been a little hard on the personal hygiene, haven't they?" he quipped, as they walked through the living room.

"Yes they have," she sang, looking up at him. "I'm feeling a little bit crusty."

Chuck turned left into the hallway behind the living room and they walked a few steps down the hall and turned right into a modestly sized bedroom. There was a brass framed bed covered with a wedding ring quilt and embroidered pillow shams against the far wall. A large cable rug was spread under the bed covering the hardwood floors, and soft lace curtains with wooden blinds covered the two north facing windows flanking the bed. "Here you are," said Chuck as he set her bags on a cedar chest at the foot of the bed. "This used to be my room at one time. There's a wardrobe over there." He pointed to a cabinet set across one corner, "And the bathroom is over here. It's a Jack and Jill. It's connected to Ellie's room."

Sarah looked into the bathroom and beyond through the connecting door into a similar sized room with similar country style furnishings and decor and a bay window facing to the west. She turned back to him and said with a soft smile, "This is _very_ nice, Chuck. Thank you."

"I think you'll find it comfortable." Their eyes locked briefly, and Chuck returned a shy awkward smile before attempting to squeeze around her into the bathroom. "Here, let me draw you a bath." he said, as he brushed by her to the tub and started the water. "I know we have some bubble bath around here somewhere," he said nervously, as he rummaged through a cabinet. "Ah, here it is." He turned around with a bottle in his hand, and there was Sarah standing right in front of him looking up at him with a grin on her face. "Whaa…"

Sarah giggled, "Thank you Chuck. You're definitely getting the pampering off to a good start." She stood on her toes, gave him a quick peck on the lips and took the bottle from his hand, pouring some of the liquid into the bath water.

"Let me get you some towels," he stammered as he shuffled from the room, "I'll be right back."

Sarah tilted her head to one side with her hands on her hips, and smirked, watching his retreating form. She then walked back into the bedroom, removed her jacket and tossed it onto the bed, and then sat on the cedar chest and took off her boots and socks. She had just pulled the tail of her blouse from her jeans and her fingers were hovering over the top buttons when Chuck cleared his throat from the doorway and she looked up at his shy tight lipped smile.

"Here you go. I got you a robe too." He held out the stack of plush cotton terry accessories to her.

"Thanks." She stepped right into his personal space and took the towels from him, letting her hand linger on his, and looking up at him through her lashes. She was so tempted, but he was obviously so nervous. _Not now, he's not ready. _She took a half step back, and turning, sashayed toward the bathroom. "I might be a while."

"That's quite alright, take your time, you deserve it." He said softly as she lingered at the bathroom door, melting him with a smile. "Right, I've got a few things to do around the house, I'll see you in a while."

Chuck stepped out into the hallway and leaned against the wall, "Oh, Geez, Bartowski," he groaned as his head fell forward and his forehead banged into the wall. He repeated the gesture several times, his head impacting the wall with a thunk, each time. "What on God's green earth is the matter with you?"

"Are you alright out there, Chuck?" asked Sarah as she disrobed and tested the water, running her fingers through the bubbles with a grin. She had heard the whole thing. _He is such an adorable but awkward and modest gentleman._

"Huh?" His head came up and he tried to see through the wall, "Oh, yeah… I'm fine… no worries. Just me being my usual clumsy self," he said with exasperation.

"Don't make me worry about you, or I may have to ask you to stay in here with me," she teased as she lowered herself into the warm water with a sigh.

"Oh? Oh, Har-dee-har! I don't think my coming in there with you would help either of us much right now." _Slow and steady, Chuck, slow and steady. _

_Sigh. Speak for yourself, Mr. B. _She blew some bubbles away from her face as she settled into the water up to her chin. Another soft thud came from the hallway. "Chuck?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He took a deep, deep, breath and exhaled forcibly. "Enjoy your bath, Sarah."

"Oh, believe me, I _am." _Sarah slid down in the tub and her head disappeared under the water. Bubbles came to the surface as her laughter finally escaped. _How long am I going to have to wait for you to make your move, Chuck Bartowski?_

Chuck walked down the hallway into the master bedroom and stripped off his clothes. He felt grungy, and… a cold shower was in order. He'd kill two birds with one stone. He felt so weird right now. The woman of his dreams was living in his house and he didn't know what to do with himself. He turned the shower on and let it warm up just enough to comfortably wash his hair and jumped in. Once his head was clean he turned off the hot water and braced himself against the shower wall.

A short while later shaved and dressed in some black sweatpants, a pair of flip flops, and his Browncoat t-shirt, Chuck walked into the kitchen. As he sat at one of the stools next to the island with his head in his hands, considering making a snack for Sarah and him, he heard a vehicle come to a stop outside. _Oh, great. If that's John Casey…_

There were three sharp raps on the front door and it swung open, "Chuck?! Whose Porsche is that out there?"

His head came bolt upright, "Ellie?" He turned and looked at his sister with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Well that's a fine how-do-you-do," said his sister with a jubilant smile, as she kicked the door closed with her colorful cowboy boot with a bang. "I haven't seen you in weeks, and now I'm hearing rumors from the Morganmill. Care to come clean, little brother?"

"Already done that. I just got out of the shower," he deflected, as he got up and shuffled to the edge of the living space.

"Oh, ha, ha," Ellie replied, with her hands on her waist, before she strode over to him and gave him a bone crushing hug.

"Ooof. Ellie, take it easy, you're going to break one of my ribs."

She released him and gripped his arms giving him an appraising look, "Says the brother who has fallen off a horse how many times without a scratch?"

"Not fallen, thrown. There's a difference, you know."

"Toe-may-toe, Toe-mah-toe, you're still practically unbreakable," she laughed, as she ran her hand through his hair shaking it, "That hair is getting mighty long, Chuck. It's starting to make those funny animal shapes again. You need a haircut."

"If I cut it I'll lose all my super-human strength."

"Oh, is that this week's excuse?" Ellie shook her head with a smile. "All right little brother, tell me about the owner of the fancy sports car."

_Oh, crap, I'm not ready for this either! _"Well, El… it's like this… it's… it's…

"Mine… and I vote for no haircut… at least for a little while longer."

Ellie and Chuck turned quickly to the doorway between the living room and the hall, and Ellie's mouth fell open. Sarah was standing there in a blue terry cloth bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her head. Ellie turned back to her brother, eyes wide. After a very pregnant pause she cocked her head to one side and closed her mouth on the tip of her tongue as her eyes narrowed at Chuck. Anyone else might have thought she was mad, but her eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Hi, Ellie, I'm Sarah. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Well… hi," Ellie said as she turned quickly back to Sarah with a huge grin, "It's nice to meet you too, Sarah," she said, as she strode briskly over to shake Sarah's hand, "Wow, Morgan wasn't kidding…"

"Morgan," said Chuck, accusingly, "What wasn't he kidding about, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Um, he said you met this girl… and that she was absolutely stunning… and, um, that he thought you two were… um… an… uhm… "

"An item?" asked Sarah with a smirk, "That seems to be the popular term for it today."

"Well… yeah, that wasn't the exact word he used, but it works." Ellie looked back and forth between the two of them, seemingly in a moment of indecision. Then she blurted out, "Is it true?"

Chuck gazed at Sarah like a lost puppy. He didn't know what to say, and he didn't want to step over a line that would make her feel uncomfortable, "Ellie, it's a bit compl-"

"Yes, it's true," said Sarah, grinning broadly at Chuck's reaction, as his mouth fell open and then snapped shut just as quickly. "I guess you could say that Chuck and I fell into the deep end," she added with a snicker.

Chucks mouth opened and closed like a guppy for a few seconds.

"Oh, my gosh," Ellie squealed in glee, "I can't believe this. Didn't you two just meet?"

"Yeah, yeah we did," said Chuck finally finding his tongue as he gazed adoringly at Sarah, a bit shocked by her proclamation. "What can I say, we kind of fell pretty hard," he said truthfully.

"Tell me, I have to know, how did this all happen. Morgan said you met at the airport after work a couple of days ago."

"Yeah, that's about it in a nutshell." Chuck rubbed the back of his neck still trying to figure out how much to say.

Sarah looked at him and shrugged one shoulder and smiled as she tilted her head to one side, "I was looking for a job, and it sort of went over the cliff from there."

"Really. What sort of a job?"

"Morgan didn't tell you?" asked Chuck a little surprised.

"No, he didn't mention it. He was mostly carrying on about how… Sarah… well… he kept using the word 'hot'," Ellie giggled.

Sarah smiled and blushed a bit as she studied a knot in the hardwood floor. _I think I __**really **__like your sister, Chuck._

"Sarah's a pilot, El. She's going to fly 402SB."

This time Ellie's mouth opened and closed like a guppy. "You're kidding me?"

"Nope. It's the truth. And she didn't have a place to stay so she's staying here at Casa Bartowski."

"Whawhawhawhat? This is all _too _much… _too_ much to absorb. I need a drink," she said as she took a few steps back and flopped into one of the chairs by the fireplace. She looked up at them questioningly, "Are you? Are you? Oh, damn, I shouldn't even be asking this question, I'm sorry."

"I'm staying in Chuck's old room for now, Ellie. We're taking it slow. Neither of us wants to rush into this." _God, I am such a liar._

"What a shame," said Ellie under her breath, averting her eyes with a wry smile.

Sarah looked at her with a start, and blushed. _Did she just give me the green light to do the deed with her brother?_

"I think I'll open a bottle of wine," said Chuck with a tremor in his voice, "Preferably something fortified. How does that sound to you, El? Would you like a glass of Paso Robles rocket fuel?"

"I already told you I wanted one, pour away. Do you have a bottle of Dusi?"

"Yep." Chuck walked into the kitchen and opened the wine fridge. "One bottle of Dusi Vineyard Zin, coming up."

"You know your way to your sister's heart," said Ellie, affectionately.

"I think I'm going to get out of this bathrobe and into something a little more presentable," said Sarah as she pulled the towel off her head and shook out her blond tresses, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Ellie's eyes grew a little bigger when she saw Sarah's hair spilled out over her shoulders and she nodded with a grin, "Hurry back, I have more questions… and maybe a few suggestions, from one girl to another," she said, with a wink.

Sarah responded with a curious smile as she rolled her eyes and left the room. Just as she made it to the door of her bedroom - _her_ room, she liked that thought - she overheard Ellie talking to her brother.

"Chuck, if you let that one get away, I swear, I will hurt you."

Her hand came up to her mouth to stifle a laugh, and she smiled.

* * *

**A/N – **She's moved in with him! Oh, my. What's going to happen next? Stay frosty.


	7. All In

**A/N **1/7/13 - Happy New Year! This has been a long time coming, and I know some of you have been wondering about that other story as well. It's in the works. I had a creative log jam and I used this story as the dynamite to break it up. If it's any consolation to you, this chapter is huge.

Thanks a bunch to my blackbelt accountant along with my ever faithful beta (and so much more) **somedeepmystery **for all of their guidance and prodigious patience with this. And thanks to **BDaddyDL,** as well, for helping me decide one of three possible endings for this chapter. I suspect he's avoided a lynch mob with his choice.

**I don't own Chuck, but I have flown a Super Cub.**

* * *

**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 7 - All In**

She felt a thump on the bed that startled her awake and instinctively she reached for her Smith and Wesson 5906, which she had tucked between the mattress and the box spring. Sarah relaxed quickly when she felt four, not so small feet walking up from the foot of the bed and across her. When she rolled onto her back, Mongo draped himself over her belly and looked up at her expectantly with his motor running. She reached up from under the covers and scratched his head behind the ears, "And what do you think you're doing?" she asked, as the cat's motor revved in response to her touch.

"Is it time to get up?" She looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was still early by her standards, a quarter to six. Especially considering how late she had been up with Chuck and his sister the night before. The evening's friendly and easy banter was still fresh in her mind. Sarah looked over at the closed bathroom door, remembering that Ellie was right across the way staying in her own room. Ellie had drank a few glasses of wine the night before and Chuck had insisted that she stay over. She looked back at the cat and shook her head at him, "No, it's not time to get up. I hope you don't make a habit of waking me up early on the weekends, you monster."

Mongo responded by standing on her chest, almost driving the air from her lungs with his considerable weight, and then started to knead 'the girls' through the quilt. "Hey, that's just a little bit forward don't you think? _Some_ men," she giggled, as she pushed him off. Undeterred, the big Maine Coon cat moved up to her face and nuzzled her ear.

Sarah pulled her ear to her shoulder and laughed before pulling the quilt up to hide. "My, aren't you the amorous one," she mumbled, through the covers over her head.

This was something completely new to Sarah. She'd never been allowed to have a pet when she was a child because she and her father had moved so often. She'd always wanted a cat but Chuck's feline was now giving her mixed emotions about the whole pet thing as he drove her awake with his affection, purring in her face through the covers. He finally relented and plopped down on the quilt, snuggled into her side. Sarah cautiously lowered the covers and stared at him, letting out a long and slow giggling exhale through her nostrils with a tightly drawn grin on her face. "This is going to take some getting used to."

She raised her hands to her face and groaned before throwing the covers to the side and climbing out on the opposite side of the bed. Pulling on the plush pink robe that was draped over the bed frame at the foot of the bed - Ellie had given it to her the night before as they were getting ready for bed - Sarah wandered out into the hallway and immediately smelled the coffee. Someone was already up. She padded down the hallway and peeked around the edge of the open doorway into Chuck's room. The bed was made and the room was empty. _Huh, now where did __**you**__ get off to, Mr. Bartowski? _

A sense of alarm slowly started to overtake her as she walked through the house and he was nowhere to be found. Then her eye caught some movement through the panes in one of the French doors in the dining room. She walked over to the door and peered out to see Chuck in the pasture, bent over at the waist with a horse's hoof in one hand - braced against his leg - and a file in the other hand. His Wrangler jeans were tucked into a pair of well-worn boots with bright red barrels and spurs with large rowels on them. He was wearing a pair of chinks and Sarah's eyes went wide as they were drawn to the seat of his pants which was accentuated by the way the leather was wrapped around his legs. His dog, Chewie, was lying obediently in the gravel outside the fence. She watched Chuck trim the horse's hoof for a minute before he set the file in a bucket by his feet and then pulled a hoof pick from it to clean the inside of Bo's hoof.

He set the horse's hoof down and gave Bo an affectionate swat on the flank and a scratch down his neck. After setting the bucket outside the fence and giving Chewie a pat on the head, Chuck stepped to Bo's side and, after checking the double cinch, swung into the cutting saddle with both hands on the horn, in one swift and easy motion. He reined the horse around in a circle as he landed softly in the saddle, the horses motion helping him settle squarely in the seat. He made it look so easy, without even using the stirrup. Of course, Chuck was not a small man, but Bo was not a small horse either. He was easily well over sixteen hands and built as solid as a rock.

Sarah watched, fascinated, as he maneuvered the horse around the pasture with subtle cues from his legs and feet, the reins mostly still unless he made the horse do something drastic. Then as she looked on, he backed Bo up to the fence at one end of the arena, then dropped suddenly and deeply into the saddle and, with a low guttural "Hya!" that she could barely hear through the closed door, the big horse dropped and took off like a gunshot. When they reached the other end at a full gallop, horse and rider banked into a hard turn to port as they slowed along the rail of the fence and settled into a posting canter.

"Wow."

"He's pretty good, isn't he?"

Sarah turned quickly to see Ellie standing behind her with two cups of coffee in her hands. _Geez! I'm losing my touch! _

"Coffee?" Ellie asked, holding out a cup with a big grin. She was wearing the same thing she had on the day before, a heavy, maroon, long-sleeved cotton work shirt, and tight fitting Wrangler jeans tucked into cowboy boots. The boots had colorful floral stitching all over them, and she had a tooled leather belt, with floral stitching that matched her boots, and a large oval barrel racing trophy buckle. Her hair was pulled back in one large braid draped across her shoulder tied with a green ribbon. Taking her all in, Sarah thought Ellie looked like the quintessential country girl, but she also had an air of mature sophistication about her.

"Thanks, Ellie." Sarah took the cup and looked back out the door. "Yeah, he's really good. And he's never fallen off a horse?" she asked, taking a sip from the mug.

Ellie chuckled, "Oh, you heard that huh? Sure, he's fallen off horses plenty of times. He's just never been hurt doing it," Ellie huffed, "I swear, sometimes I think he's bulletproof." She took a sip of her coffee. "It's so strange watching him do that one minute and then tripping over his own feet the very next," she added with a giggle.

Sarah turned back to Ellie with a broad grin lighting up her face. "So he has a klutzy side to him, too?"

"You mean you haven't seen it yet?" Ellie retorted incredulously, "I'd've figured he would have shown that side of himself to you right away as gorgeous as you are. I can't believe you look the way you do fresh out of bed, it's disgusting," she said, with a grin and wink. "Normally someone like you has Chuck tripping all over himself non-stop."

It took all of Sarah's concentration and training to not allow more than a coy smile to show on her face as she chewed on her lower lip, and she fought mightily to keep the blush from rising up her neck as she looked back out the door. She'd had all sorts of compliments about her looks before but didn't have a clue how to respond to the one Ellie had just given her. She'd also seen what Ellie was talking about, but figured Chuck's sister was exaggerating like siblings are prone to do.

"Good Lord, you have an amazing amount of self-control, girl," sang Ellie, with a laugh, "Have you been to acting school?"

Sarah shot Ellie a sparkling smile from the corner of her eye and lost it as the color crept up her neck. _Dammit. Not acting school, Ellie, but something very close._ "C'mon, Ellie, I'm sure I really don't look that great right now," she answered modestly.

"Okay then, maybe it's something else that's making you glow like a firefly."

Sarah turned back to her and shrugged with a sheepish smile, "Maybe." _God, does it really show that much? _

"I'm sorry Sarah," Ellie said with a laugh, "I should know better than to have this sort of fun at your expense. You hardly know me… but I hope we get to know each other much better. I like you. And I think you would be good for my brother. You have a remarkable effect on him and he deserves someone like you in his life."

Sarah felt a wave of conflicting emotions flow within her from Ellie's statement._ You hardly know __**me**__, Ellie… and I'm not sure how far I can let you in… but I want to. _"I like your brother, Ellie. A lot… a whole lot. He does something for me too."

"No pressure," said Ellie with a beaming smile, "but if you're really interested in him you may have to take the initiative. He's kind of shy about that sort of thing, but I've seen the way he looks at you… I've also noticed the way you look at him."

Sarah only looked at Chuck's sister with a perplexed expression on her face. She'd seen the odd juxtaposition that was Ellie's brother the last couple of days. He could take the initiative, but he had balked when things looked like they could go farther between the two of them. She had found the odd shyness endearing and strangely sexy. But she also knew there was something else at play here that Ellie didn't understand.

"Right, sorry if that's too much information," said Ellie, when she realized that Sarah had clammed up. "Why don't we get some breakfast started. I have appointments this morning and I need to get going soon. Sunday stable calls," she added, with a roll of her eyes.

"Okay. I'm going to go get dressed. I'll be back to help you in a minute." Sarah could feel Ellie's eyes on her as she walked back to her room. A smile graced her face as she thought about Chuck's sister's less than subtle attempts at matchmaking. Ellie was a dynamic in the situation she hadn't given enough thought to, and she could see some possibly dangerous ground up ahead because of her obvious talent for reading people.

-II-

She walked out the front door of Casa Bartowski and looked toward the barn. Once again, Chuck had gone missing. Sarah knew she was going to have to have a talk with him about this. His penchant for doing his own thing without telling her where he was going could, and probably would, lead to trouble. It was just one of the myriad, new and troubling aspects of his life she really didn't want to bring to his attention right now. As she stepped off the front porch Ellie's pickup truck caught her eye. It was a Ford similar to Chuck's, but a crew cab, with a raised aluminum bed cover that was commonly used by veterinarians to store the tools of their trade. Ellie had told her a little bit about her job the night before. She'd been out attending to the horses of one of Chuck's neighbors yesterday, when she'd decided to pay him a visit because the curiosity that Morgan had bred became too much to ignore.

Sarah walked through the big double doors and methodically searched the barn taking some time to get familiar with the building as she went. She poked her head into a well-appointed tack room with a number of saddles lined up on racks on the wall and bridles and halters hanging from pegs under a window. The lights were on and in the center of the room, next to a work bench, was an English saddle on a wooden rack. A tin of saddle soap and an English bridle were sitting on the work bench. Chuck was getting some tack ready for her. She smiled as she realized she was going to need to have her riding boots and jodhpurs sent out from Washington. It had been a long time since she'd used them, since belonging to the Harvard Equestrian Club. But watching Chuck that morning had piqued her curiosity about learning western riding, and Ellie had offered to spend some time teaching her some of the techniques. She had offered Sarah the use of her Paint Horse, Jesse.

As she walked toward the back of the barn, she called his name, "Chuck? Are you in here?"

"Back here," he shouted back from the space where he kept the Super Cub parked.

"It figures," she said under her breath, "What are you doing? Breakfast is almost ready, come and eat." She walked up to the Cub where Chuck was standing on one of the bushwheels, attaching something to the cowling in front of the plane's windscreen. She peeked around him and saw that it was an agricultural, GPS guidance lightbar, and she raised an eyebrow.

"I'm putting the ag GPS back on. We're going to do your first training flights today," he said, as he turned to her and grinned, almost slipping off the tire in the process.

"Oh. Okay. So we're going to start off in the Cub?"

"Yeah. I'm not going to throw you into the Air Tractor without some hands on training, you know. This is how my dad taught me. Now I get to show you how it's done, I can't wait," he said with a touch of giddy enthusiasm.

"I can't wait either." She answered his infectious grin with one of her own. "But your sister offered to take me to town this afternoon to shop for some clothes too."

"Oh, joy. Clothes shopping," he deadpanned, "I suppose you're going to make me go along so you can keep an eye on me."

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," Sarah answered apologetically, "Spending time with me and your sister can't be all that bad, can it?"

"Actually, I'm probably as concerned about the two of you alone together as you are about me being by myself," he chuckled, "Otherwise, who's going to keep Ellie from telling you all sorts of embarrassing things about me." He placed his hand on Sarah's shoulder, stepping down to the floor, and was surprised when Sarah drew him toward her with her arm around his waist.

"Before we go in I need to tell you something," she said looking up into his eyes. "I spoke with Graham last night and reviewed my plan with him. He approves. Casey has been briefed and he'll be here any time now, so we have to be ready. I need to fill you in on some of the cover before we have a problem with your sister."

"I thought that was why you disappeared on us for a little while. I tried to distract Ellie for you."

"Thank you. Things are happening very fast and I didn't anticipate your sister being here. I'm sorry you can't say anything to her, Chuck. I'm even more sorry that it's going to force you to lie to her."

Placing his hands on Sarah's shoulders, Chuck looked her in the eye, "Ellie's no dummy, Sarah. Eventually she's going to figure it out. And when she does it's not going to be good for either of us. She's going to be questioning our sincerity about everything. _Everything_, Sarah."

Sarah gave Chuck a pained and pensive look as her mouth drew into a tight line. She had been at war with herself and her training since she had arrived for this assignment. Lies and subterfuge were part and parcel to the espionage business and she had become so used to keeping secrets and withholding information over the years she hardly gave it a second thought. But knowing what she now knew about Chuck and his sister was making the justification for what she was asking Chuck to do very difficult. The little exposure she'd had with Ellie - and even Morgan - left her with the feeling that things could blow up in their faces with extremely incendiary consequences. And the fallout from it wouldn't only affect Chuck. She now found herself wanting a real relationship for the first time in her life, with someone her superiors now considered an asset, and because of that one glaring fact, everything had changed. Realistically, the only way she would be able to stay on this path was if she ignored her feelings for Chuck and backed away from him emotionally almost completely. _Oh, God, no. NO. _

Her face fell. She pushed away from him and started to walk away down the open passage between the stalls to the main door.

"Sarah?" Chuck's plaintive tone of voice saying only her name stopped her dead in her tracks.

"We _can't _tell her, Chuck," she said, with iron in her voice, still facing away from him. Her hands had balled up into fists at her sides. She couldn't face him. Because if she did, she was afraid she'd lose it. _**What**__ is happening to me? _

As she heard Chuck shuffling up behind her - the spurs he was still wearing jangling - she scrunched her eyes shut, struggling to contain the moisture building in them. She couldn't back out now, couldn't do this to him, or herself; but what was she going to do? She was a CIA agent and the mission had to come first. Didn't it?

He stayed behind her and tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder. "There must be something we can do; some way we can let my sister know what's going on without compromising the mission. Ellie can help us… we were spy kids, Sarah."

_Compromising? If you only knew! But… you do know, don't you? _She spun to face him, and seeing the look of pain reflected in his eyes, did the only thing she could think to do at that moment, she took his face in her hands and kissed him, wantonly, but tenderly. She looked up into his eyes as his hands reached up and covered hers on his cheeks, "Spy kids?" she asked, in almost a whisper as a small wry smile grew on her face.

He rolled his eyes and smiled thinly, "It's a silly movie."

"Chuck? Sarah?" Sarah spun around again and Chuck looked up to see Ellie standing in the big double doorway to the barn. "C'mon, breakfast is getting cold, and I have a couple of appointments this morning I need to keep."

"Okay, El," Chuck answered, red faced, "we'll be right behind you, just give us a second."

Ellie's eyes narrowed as she tilted her head to one side with her arms crossed on her chest. "'Give us a second' for you two is likely to turn into an hour. Now, come on, I'm hungry," she said as she turned on her boot heel and tromped back toward the house.

"Yes, MOM."

"HA,HA," Ellie retorted, with a wave of her hand without turning, "Get your butts in gear."

"Oh God, this could be a huge problem," Sarah whispered, gripping Chuck's hand behind her.

"Told ya."

-III-

"Spray off." Sarah pulled the Cub crisply up off the end of the oat field next to Morgan's house and over the power lines leading to the building.

"That's it, nice. Keep the wings level until you've gained some height, now extend," said Chuck, encouragingly, from the back seat.

She rolled the plane into a quickly executed turn downwind at about a hundred feet, watching the cross-track distance on the lightbar mounted on the Mistress' cowling. When they were about 800 feet from the new line she had toggled, she rolled the airplane the other direction and pulled the nose up above the horizon, in a climbing arcing turn, and slowly started to pull the airplane through the turn with the elevator as the nose of the plane dropped back through the horizon line and they started to descend back toward the field, marching the track intercept angle and distance lights evenly across the lightbar as she rolled out.

Chuck pursed his lips and gave her a quiet, unseen, nod of approval from the back seat. _She's getting the hang of the turns quick, _he thought."Give yourself a little room over the house and then push down over it."

"Okay," Sarah replied, with a nod.

"Easy on your feet, small corrections."

"Okay. Light on the toes."

She pushed the Cub down over Morgan's house and, as she crossed the fence across the backyard, said, "Spray on," as she pantomimed moving the spray handle forward with her left hand.

Chuck looked down and saw Morgan standing in the backyard waving at them. "Good! Very good. Your height looks about right. How do the nozzles look?"

Sarah glanced briefly out at both wings to simulate checking the nozzles for clogs and then winced when she looked back at the lightbar finding she'd drifted twelve feet off the line. "Oh, fudge."

Chuck snickered, "Get it back, you can do it. Don't overshoot. Good. Now small corrections."

"Wow, lots of things happening at once," she said, the concentration obvious in her voice, as she flew the Super Cub across the field with the wheels about five feet over the oat crop.

"Yeah, but you're getting the hang of it quick. After we get done with a few more passes I'll have you do another race-track pattern for me."

Sarah blew out a breath, "Okay. This is tiring!"

"Trust me, it'll get easier. You're doin' great."

When Sarah pulled up over the fence at the other end of the field she said, "Spray off," pulling the simulated handle back, she clicked the button on the stick, advancing the swath on the GPS. She then rolled into another extending, downwind turn toward the trees along the creek. A satisfied smile grew on her face as she looked down past the lower wingtip at the ground rushing by while they turned, "This is fun!" she exclaimed, as the tops of the trees along the creek flashed by only a few feet below them and she rolled once again into another 'P' turn for the back-to-back pattern she was flying.

"Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?" Chuck deadpanned from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder with a big smile to see Chuck smirking at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. He glanced over her shoulder at the turn coordinator indicator on the panel to see the ball smack dab in the center and then riveted his eyes on hers again. _Damn, she's good! _"Ahem, eyes on the prize."

"They were," she announced with a grin, as she turned to look back out the plane and finish the turn.

Chuck stared at the back of her head, stunned into silence with a sheepish grin on his face. Finally shaking it off when he heard "Spray on" over the intercom, he looked out at the field flying by. She was right on the line. "Just remember, we're only going about a hundred in the Cub, the Air Tractor does this at about a hundred and fifty," he warned, finding his voice again.

"Yeah, I'll bet things happen a lot faster in that plane."

"She's built for speed," said Chuck, with a quiet voice that barely opened the VOX circuit on the intercom.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll refer to it as a guy," Sarah sang in response.

"Suit yourself. Just as long as you treat him right and don't yell at him."

"Wouldn't think of it."

"I'll remember that."

"I was talking about the plane, Chuck, but I'll try not to raise my voice to you, too."

"No. Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try," said Chuck, with squeaky gravel in his voice, obviously imitating someone else's speech.

"Ha! Who was that supposed to be?"

"Oh, good grief. Add another movie to the growing list."

Sarah reached the end of the field and pulled abruptly up over the caretaker's house. Chuck looked down and saw Morgan staring at a very large, silver and maroon motor home as it squeezed under the arch of the front gate. There was a black sedan on a trailer behind it. "Lucy, we have company," said Chuck with a pronounced Latin accent.

"Now that one I recognize," said Sarah with a short laugh. "That's in all likelihood, Casey," she added, her voice more serious.

"Nice rig. Government issue?"

"Most likely."

"It looks like it's built like a tank."

"Well, it probably _is _bulletproof."

"That figures. Why don't you give us a cleanup pass down the fence-line next to him? Then we'll land and give him a proper welcome, whatever that is for an NSA assassin."

"No violence, Chuck," Sarah said, with a chuckle as she turned the Cub for a clean-up pass down the fence line next to the road.

"I'm not the one who no doubt has weapons stashed all over their person."

"Could've fooled me."

"Touché. Forgive me if government agents make me a bit paranoid."

Sarah sighed loud enough to activate the VOX circuit, "Yeah, we probably need to talk about that."

"Sorry, that was a little close to home, wasn't it? Go ahead and put the wingtip right over the fence," he added, as Sarah dropped the Mistress down for the pass next the road leading to the house. The Cub flashed by the big motor home, the wingtip only a few feet away from it. Sarah and Chuck couldn't help but wave in chorus as they flew past, like they were on a parade float. "Hello," said Chuck, dragging the word out as they went by.

Sarah smiled and pulled the Super Cub up smartly at the end of the pass and circled back to land on the alfalfa with a nicely executed short approach and landing, lightly touching down on the mains.

"Well done. You can fly the Cub anytime you want. I'm sure that Dad is somewhere smiling, knowing another pretty girl is flying his plane."

Sarah glanced over her shoulder with pleasant surprise showing on her face, "Thank you, Chuck. I'll treat your other girlfriend kindly."

"I never had a doubt," he said, beaming back at her. "We'll leave her out in case you want to practice later this afternoon. I'd like to watch you a bit from the ground."

"Oh. Alright. I'm not keen to the idea of leaving you by yourself right now, though," said Sarah, biting her lip as she shut the engine down, parking next to the barn.

"I know, but I'll be right next to the field and I'm sure the Major will be close by."

"Yeah," she answered quietly. Sarah still didn't know if she could trust John Casey. But he had his orders to be on a protective detail now, and he wasn't one to disobey orders, as he had disturbingly demonstrated at Chuck's cabin in the mountains. Her biggest concern was General Beckman and the possible schism she could create with this new team. Orders for this op were coming from her boss, Director Graham's office, but Sarah was concerned whether Casey really would place Graham's orders first. Everything just felt so nebulous right now.

They climbed out of the plane and walked through the barn, approaching the big motor home and the equally big man walking around it, poking around in some of the outside storage compartments of the rig. As they walked up, Casey rose and turned to them causing Chuck to wonder if the NSA agent had had eyeballs implanted in the back of his head.

"Walker, I assume that was you learning another useful skill for your work," the big man said laconically with a touch of sarcasm, his face an expressionless mask.

"Looks like you are, also, Casey. I must say you look like a natural as a motor home tourist," she retorted with a sly smile, "Are you a member of The Good Sam Club too?"

Casey answered with a grunt that Chuck was trying to decipher. He concluded it must be one of disgust as the Major finally looked him up and down and then almost imperceptibly frowned. "Bartowski. Is there a place I can park this monstrosity?"

"Yeah, you're in luck. There's a pad with a power, water, and septic hookup on the west side of the garage under those Mulberry trees. My folks used to keep an eventing trailer parked there."

Casey looked over next to the old garage that Chuck was pointing at. "Hmng, luck. Guess I'll get to it then."

"Need any help?" asked Chuck, trying to at least be a good host.

"No, I've got it. I'll let Walker babysit you while I do this."

"Swell," deadpanned Chuck, in return as he looked over at the frown on his other handlers face. "We'll be in the house if you need any help."

"We need to talk after you get settled, Casey." Sarah's voice was even and her face was also a mask as she glanced at Chuck.

"Hmn, I'm sure we do," said the Major unceremoniously, without looking at either of them. He walked over next to the garage to survey the space that Chuck had pointed out.

"My, my, isn't he a friendly fellow. Guess he wants to live up to the first impression," whispered Chuck into Sarah's ear as he turned to walk to the house. Sarah gave Chuck a subtle smirk as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes and turned to walk up the steps with him.

As they made it to the top step of the porch Chuck's pocket started playing the Mexican hat dance and he pulled out his iPhone. "Hey Morg, what's up? … Yeah, I thought you might be wondering, have you got a few minutes?" he asked the phone as he and Sarah walked through the front door.

-IV-

"I don't think he's buying it," Chuck said, as he pushed the 'end call' button on his phone.

"You sounded pretty convincing to me," answered Sarah, as she sat next to him at the island in the kitchen.

"Convincing story or not, the timing is all a little too convenient and sudden. I normally wouldn't drop something as big as this on him without some sort of warning. I can probably get away with it with the rest of the crew, but Morgan and I talk about everything, Sarah. I'm not sure if this will work with Ellie, either," he looked over at her and sighed, "but we've already had that discussion. I just hate lying to either of them."

Sarah turned to look at him, placing her hand on his shoulder, her mouth drawn into a line. "We don't really have a choice right now, Chuck. We'll have to stick to the plan for the time being."

"I understand. But if we're not careful this could all blow up in our faces."

"We'll deal with it when, or if, we have to, Chuck. We're already pushing it as it is, if you know what I mean." To drive the point home she wrapped her arm around him and leaned over to kiss his neck then nibble his ear lobe affectionately, and it took all of her willpower to do it, as she starkly came to the realization it was because it wasn't an act. She wasn't trying to manipulate a mark this time. This time it was someone she cared about and it gave her pause.

"Hiyo." Chuck's brain locked up for a moment. "You're treading on very dangerous ground there, Sarah," he said when he got his eyes uncrossed.

"I know," she said with resignation. "But I'm not going to fight what I'm feeling, Chuck. I can't. Did your mother fight it?"

He placed his palm on her cheek and then ran it over her shoulder and down her arm. She tried to fight back a shiver that ran through her. "No, she didn't. My grandmother said Mom bowled Dad over. At the time she told me about it I thought it was just yucky," he smiled and rolled his eyes, "I was only eight when Grams told me that."

One look at the smile on Chuck's face was all Sarah needed to know that she was a goner. In that moment it struck her that it wasn't only Chuck's mom that bowled his father over, but probably also the very same unassuming smile on his father's face that had knocked his mother over like a set of ten pins. She was completely lost in that smile and all she wanted to do was kiss it.

She thought briefly about the plan and the cover story she had come up with to explain her and Casey's presence. It had all stemmed from Chuck's ad-libbing on the ramp at the airport with his two very unusual customers - at least she hoped very much they weren't the norm. A government contract involving remote sensing would help explain the many things that might be happening around the airport and the inevitable official visitor. She had taken Chuck's idea and expanded on it some, anticipating the need for growth in infrastructure and new employees that would be needed to accomplish her mission. A mission she now realized involved much more than the work Chuck would be doing for the CIA and the NSA. Her mission had now become very personal. It now involved building and protecting a future for the two of them as well. She was 'all in', and she knew it.

"Do you trust me, Chuck?"

When he looked back at her she saw a mix of turbulent emotions in his eyes and on his face. He smiled at her ruefully and opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again into a tight line.

"I don't want you to be paranoid around me. I wouldn't do _anything _to hurt you. Please believe that," she said, looking at her hands in her lap.

"I'm trying, Sarah," he said quietly, "I'm sorry. We only met a few days ago. Sometimes I feel like I'm being played. I can't help myself. You're so unbelievably amazing, just so out of my league. I know the world you come from, and in spite of all that I'm still glad you're here. I know I need you here. And I _want _to trust you… and so much more," he added, with almost a whisper.

Sarah forced herself to look up from her hands and make eye contact with him. She had to show him somehow that what she was doing wasn't an act; that what she was feeling was real. "What was it you told me in the plane about trying Chuck?" she asked, with a sad smile. Chucks eyes shot to hers. _Good._ "I'm not out of your league… not by a long shot. And don't be sorry. I won't lie to you, Chuck. I am manipulating you a little. But it's to protect you. And it's to protect myself. Because I'm not sure if I could handle what would happen to me if something happened to _you_." _Please believe that, because it's true._

"So your motives are somewhat selfish." He was watching her eyes carefully as he said it, seeing a smile sparkle there before it showed on the rest of her face.

"Yes. Very selfish," she answered, with that slightly guarded and closed mouth signature grin he was starting to love.

"I can live with that," he said, grinning back lopsidedly. He understood what she was telling him. He felt the same way, and her simple admission made something click in him, like he had finally found the right key to the lock on a very large ring of identical looking keys.

Chuck reached up and pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek with his palm. He placed his other hand on her knee and Sarah watched him lean in realizing he was going to initiate his first kiss with her all on his own. His lips had barely made electrifying contact with hers when there were three sharp raps on the front door and it swung open.

"Alright, little brother, _what_ is going on around here? Who does that motor home belong to?" Ellie looked at the two sitting very close on the bar stools, Chuck sitting bolt upright, red faced, and Sarah with her hand on her forehead covering her eyes. "Oops, sorry about that. Hope I didn't interrupt anything." Her grin didn't match her contrite voice.

"Geez, El, one of these days…" Chuck stopped short when he saw the look in Sarah's eyes as she peeked at him through her fingers.

"Sorrrry."

"It's _okay_, Ellie," but before Sarah could say anything more Ellie cut her off.

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't be barging in here like a bull in a china shop. I apologize. This is taking a bit to get used to, that's all."

"Ellie this is your family home, you should never feel like you have to knock."

"Well in the interest of avoiding some extremely awkward moments, don't you think I ought to?" she asked Sarah back with a smirk. Her smile turned to morbid curiosity when Chuck's expression turned to veiled horror and she heard someone decidedly male clear his throat through the open door behind her.

Ellie turned around to see a very large man with a chiseled face and dark, short cropped hair standing on the porch with a raised eyebrow. He had a small smile on his face that Sarah wasn't sure was for the cover or what he had heard Chuck's sister say.

"The motor home is mine," John Casey said evenly "You must be Chuck's sister. The name is John Casey. I'm Chuck's new A&P mechanic. Pleased to meet you…?"

"Eleanor… Ellie. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Casey," she said, after her mouth clacked back shut.

Casey stepped into the entry and offered Ellie his hand, "Please, call me John. I'm not much of one for formality."

"O.K., John," she answered, distinctly separating the O and the K as she shook his hand. Ellie turned back to her brother and gave him a suspicious look he'd seen all too often growing up; eyes narrowed, one corner of her mouth pulled over, and a quick tilt of the head. "Chuck, isn't one huge mechanic enough?"

"Wewewewell, I've been meaning to talk to you about that Ellie," Chuck stammered, "I've suddenly got a whole bunch more business that's requiring me to hire more help."

"Outside, Chuck."

"Whawha-what? El, we can-"

"Outside. NOW." Ellie turned to Sarah and Casey, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I need to speak to my brother in private for a moment."

Casey and Sarah exchanged an uncomfortable and curious glance at each other. "It's alright Chuck, we'll just wait for you in here," said Sarah, giving him an apologetic smile.

Chuck returned Sarah that look of resignation she'd seen more than once in the last few days, shrugged, and then silently followed his sister out the front door.

"What the hell is going on, Chuck?" Ellie whispered loudly as the door shut.

Sarah winced when, looking through the front window, she watched Ellie grab her brother's arm near the elbow and drag him off the porch into the driveway. She couldn't hear it, but the questioning looked severe, like an interrogation.

"Hnmg. She's a ball of fire. Is she going to be any trouble?"

Sarah looked at the NSA agent who was wearing a subtle smirk, and frowned. "Not if I can help it, but we may have our work cut out for us." _Don't crack on me now, Chuck._

"Looks like I'm gonna get to see what this guy's really made of sooner than I thought," said Casey, gruffly, and rapidly.

"I thought you found that out at the cabin."

"Could've been an aberration."

"I assure you, it wasn't," replied Sarah, sternly.

"Guess we'll see, _if_ he survives _that, _heh_. _She'd make a good interrogation trainer at the Farm._"_

Sarah couldn't disagree with that assessment. All of a sudden she was not looking forward to her afternoon of shopping with Chuck's sister. Then she looked at Casey curiously as he seemed to be enjoying the show. She wondered how much more he had heard. He was keeping his mouth shut so far about her and Chuck. She suspected that wasn't going to last.

-V-

Eventually Chuck and Ellie came back into the house. Chuck looked contrite, and Ellie, well, Sarah couldn't decide what was going on with Ellie; she had an amazing poker face. It shocked Sarah how much that face looked like one of a seasoned operative. Her guard really came up when Ellie looked at her and smiled brightly.

"So, Sarah, are you ready to go do some shopping? I feel the need, the need for… another pair of pointy toed boots," she said, as she gave her brother a very pointed look.

_Oh God, Chuck. What did you tell her? _Sarah's eyes met Chuck's and he barely perceptibly shook his head. He didn't look happy. She assumed it was because he'd spent the last fifteen minutes lying to his sister. The sixty-four dollar question hanging in the air was how successful he'd been at it. And Ellie's comment about boot shopping didn't make her feel confident.

"Sure Ellie, I'm ready when you are. I'm really excited about it." She smiled at Chuck pleasantly and expectantly, "Are you up for some shopping, Chuck?"

"Sorry, Sarah, but that little stinker is staying here in the dog house. It's just us girls this time. I've had enough of his obfuscating brattiness for one afternoon. He's a pain to shop with anyway and he'll only cramp our style." She said it all with a smile on her face, and it was comically odd how amicable Ellie sounded, but without any question that her brother wasn't going to be coming along.

"It's okay, Sarah," Chuck said, seeing the look of consternation on her face, "I'd only be a third wheel anyway, and John and I need to talk some about the work I have lined up for him at the airport."

Sarah exchanged a wary look with Chuck and Casey, and then pasted a smile on her face. "I guess we'll see you later then." After a second of hesitation and a glance at Casey she stepped up to Chuck and took his hands and gave him a peck on the cheek. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of Casey's eyebrows turn up ever so slightly. "Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone, okay?"

"I should be telling you that. Your credit card is in serious jeopardy," said Chuck, with a sheepish smile.

"You mean you're not letting her use your company card?" asked Ellie challengingly.

Chuck looked at his sister and, as he rolled his eyes, reached into his pocket and pulled his credit card from his billfold. Sarah shook her head, "No Chuck, I can buy my own work clothes, I'm not accepting that."

"Take it," he said with a lopsided grin, taking her hand, setting the card in her palm, and closing her hand around it, "it'll help me get some street cred back with my sister. I'll see you later. Have a good time."

Ellie smirked at her brother and huffed, "It's a good start. C'mon Sarah, let's go. I want to have a ride in your Porsche," she added, smiling brightly at her new girlfriend.

Chuck looked over at Casey a little trepidatiously when the door closed.

"What was that about between Walker and you?" Casey asked suspiciously.

"What do you mean?"

Casey growled in a way that made Chuck take a half step back. "Do I have to spell it out for you, numbnuts?" He put his hands together and cracked his knuckles.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Chuck pursed his lips and shrugged. "Ellie thinks Sarah is my girlfriend. It was for the cover."

"Hmn. Uh, huh. I wonder how that could've possibly happened." Casey looked at him with a penetrating gaze. "Bein' as you got smacked on the nose with a rolled up newspaper, we may as well get some work done. Come with me, I have some files for you to look at. After we're done with that I want to see what's in that gun cabinet," he said, pointing across the room at the porcelain Winchester logo.

-VI-

Thankfully, the drive to the western store in Bakersfield turned out to be interrogation free, at least as far as the grilling Chuck had received in front of his house was concerned. Ellie had asked Sarah several questions about herself, which she was able to answer with a mixture of truth, small lies, deception, and deflection. Chuck's sister had managed to get more personal information out of her than Chuck had so far. Things like the college she attended and her major, and the town she was born in. And even a few of the countries she had traveled to. That bothered her more than a small amount. She now hoped that Chuck didn't find out about these things from his sister. She really needed to be more forthcoming with him.

But she liked Ellie… a lot. She was an intelligent and strong willed woman, with a significant amount of savvy and a bubbly personality. It was very hard not to like her, much like her brother. And Chuck had been right, again. Ellie spent some of the drive sharing some humorous and embarrassing stories about growing up with her brother. Ellie gave her the impression that Chuck was quite a scamp when he was younger, constantly into mischief. Thinking back on the last few days made her recognize he still had that in him.

Sarah stepped out of the dressing room wearing a pair of Wrangler jeans and turned around in front of the mirror.

"Oh. My. Gosh," exclaimed Ellie, standing behind her with her hands on her hips, "And to think I thought you looked disgustingly gorgeous fresh out of the sack."

Sarah grinned back at her in the mirror, "You think they look okay?"

"Are you kidding me? They look fantastic! They do need to be longer though if you want to wear them over your boots."

Sarah looked at how the jeans were already dragging on the floor and looked at Ellie skeptically.

"Trust me, you want them to gather a bit over your boots when you're standing up so they won't ride up when you're sitting in the saddle."

"Well, I'm kind of new to all this so I'll follow your lead. What if I want to wear them in my boots like you do?"

"You can roll them up some before you tuck them in. They stay in the boots better that way." Ellie handed Sarah several work shirts and a couple more pairs of jeans, "Here, try these on, then we'll see about a couple of pairs of boots and a hat or two for you."

"You're kidding. You mean like a cowboy hat?"

Ellie giggled back over her shoulder as she started marching across the store, "What other kind of a hat is there? You're going to need a couple of belts too, and some more dressy stuff."

Sarah blew out her breath forcefully as she stepped back into the dressing room. _Oh, m__y God, this girl makes Carina look like a rank amateur when it comes to power shopping! I can't put all this stuff on Chuck's credit card!_

Sarah's eyes almost popped out of her head when she came back out of the dressing room to see all of the clothes that Ellie had brought for her to try on. And then Ellie held up a very large engraved oval silver belt buckle with a gold heart on it, waving it around held in both hands with a huge grin on her face. _I stand corrected. She can out-shop the entire CAT Squad put together!_

Three hours later Sarah and Ellie emerged from the store with several large shopping bags, two hat boxes, two garment bags, and four boot boxes. Sarah had a glazed look in her eyes as they worked to get it all into her Porsche. To top it all off, as she was attempting to get over the cash register shock - and she had insisted on paying for some of the dressier clothes with her own money - Ellie walked up behind her and bought several pieces of sterling silver jewelry, handing Sarah a pair of heart shaped earrings as they started to gather it all up. Even the sales clerk was astounded. She said it was the biggest sale she had ever made.

As they drove back down the highway, with Sarah staring straight ahead in a state of shock, Ellie hit her right between the eyes with the questions.

"So Sarah, what's this deal Chuck has with the government contract, do you know anything about that? Is that why he hired you?"

Sarah turned her large, glazed cerulean eyes to Ellie, "I'm sorry? What?"

"Chuck told me he had to hire more help for some government contract he'd been awarded, is that why he hired you and John?"

Sarah's mind spiraled for the briefest of moments. She didn't know what Chuck had told Ellie, but she needed to make sure their stories matched. And, if she asked Ellie too many or the wrong questions she would probably get suspicious, or worse. "Ellie, I don't think he hired me because of that, but I think he probably hired Mr. Casey due to it. Chuck had me come with him to the airport yesterday morning and he met with some people from the Air Force to discuss some sort of remote sensing contract. Something about air quality and infrared and thermal groundwater studies. It sounded like a joint project between the military and the USDA."

"Well that's more than I got out of Chuck. He was quite evasive about it. He only kept dancing around my questions. Sometimes he can be so irritating. He's just like his father."

_Damn it, Chuck! What is so hard about a damn cover story. The contract was drawn up to be real. You didn't even have to lie about it! Crap! _"I don't have any details about it for you, Ellie. But I do know that Chuck was as surprised about the whole thing as much as you are." _Isn't __**that**__ the truth! And I need to find out more about his dad._

"God, Sarah, he's already busier than a one armed wallpaper hanger. How's he going to keep up with all of this too?"

_That's a very good question. _"I really don't know. If it's any consolation I'll be helping him as much as I can. It looks like we are going to be very, very busy. You might not see much of us for a while."

"Well I hope you and he will be around for the barbecue on Memorial Day weekend. That's a pretty big deal for our family and friends."

"I understand. Chuck told me most of your family were veterans. I'll try to make sure we're able to stay on top of things so there are no problems for that weekend."

Ellie reached over and surprised Sarah by squeezing her hand on the console, "Thanks, Sarah. I'm glad you're around for Chuck. I don't know how he found you, but I have a good feeling about the two of you."

_If you only knew… dammit. _Sarah reached up to her ear, "Thanks for the earrings, by the way. You really shouldn't have, you know."

"Aw, it was nothing. It's the least I could do for my brother's girlfriend."

Sarah sighed and smiled sheepishly at Chuck's sister. She was beginning to wonder if she'd made the wrong decision about her.

-VII-

"This's one of the finest examples of a pre-'64 Model 70 I've ever seen, Bartowski." John Casey cradled the pristine bolt action rifle chambered in .300 Winchester magnum in his hands like it was a priceless archaeological artifact. He held it up, inspecting the eye relief of the old Leupold Vari-X 3X9 scope. "Is it a shooter?"

"Absolutely. All of these guns are for shooting, even that Model 94 coach rifle. Our family never thought a classic firearm should sit on a display rack its entire life. That .300 magnum is a tack driver. Just say the word if you ever want to shoot it."

"Hmg, maybe a bit overpowered for driving tacks. Too bad it's starting to get dark."

"Then tomorrow if you want. It's no big deal."

"You need to get your priorities straight, moron."

Chuck held the big NSA's agent's glare for a few seconds before the intimidating stare got the better of him. He let himself grin ever so subtly at the floor between his feet. It hadn't taken him that long to figure out John Casey's modus operandi where insults were concerned. He suspected Casey saved them for people he respected in a collegial sense or as a mentor. He certainly wasn't going to test him on it, though. He knew a control freak when he saw one.

"Fine. If you can't wait I'll go get you some ammo. I've got some 200 grain Sierra MatchKing boat tails ready to go."

The Major shot him a critical look with narrowed eyes. "You're a smartass, you know that? Tomorrow's fine."

"Your patience is a thing to admire."

"*HMG*"

They both turned to the front door when they heard boots tromping up the steps to the porch. "Chuck? Can you give us a hand with this stuff?" asked Ellie, as she and Sarah walked through the door with shopping bags in their hands.

"Holy… buckets of nuggets, Batman…" Chuck's gaze was transfixed on the vision in front of him. He was stunned. Sarah stood in the doorway in a pair of tight fitting Wrangler jeans and bullhide cowboy boots. There was a braided horsehair belt around her very small waist, sporting a large silver buckle with a gold heart in the center. And, she was wearing a very nicely fitted pink and green plaid, Cruel Girl, long-sleeved shirt that really showed off the top half of her figure. The emerald green in the shirt was pulling her eye color that direction like he'd seen before. Topping it all off was a low crown straw cowboy hat with a horse hair hat band.

"What the hell happened to _you_, Walker?" Casey slipped with an expression rarely seen on his face.

"Chuck's sister," she exclaimed with a smirk. Sarah locked eyes with Chuck, "You like?" she asked, already easily knowing the answer from his beaming smile.

"Oh, WOW, most definitely!" Chuck took a very sudden breath. "You look… absolutely… incredible." _What did I ever do to deserve this? D'oh! Oh, yeah, I opened the __**wrong **__email. I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but, thank you, Bryce._

Then Sarah turned around slowly like a runway model and looked over her shoulder at Chuck with a smile once she had her back to him. Casey almost dropped the precious Winchester rifle and Chuck's mouth fell wide open.

"Meep."

Ellie laughed, "I told you, Sarah…"

"Yeah, you did. Who would have thought," she answered, with a giggle.

"Well that went about as expected," Ellie said with a laugh, "I haven't heard my brother squeak like _that_ in a while." She shook her head, "C'mon guys, we've got some burgers in the car, help us get all of these goodies."

"Did someone say food?" said Morgan, poking his head in through open door. "Whoa! Sarah! Be still my beating heart…"

"Ugh, there is way too much estrogen floating in this room, I need some fresh air."

-VIII-

"Hamburgers on fine china. Hmn, I've got to hand it to you Bartowski, you've got style."

They were all sitting at one end of the large dining table, the remnants of a big pile of fries and onion rings on a shared platter between them and a bottle of wine next to it.

"It's kind of the way we roll around here," said a very distracted Chuck, ignoring what, he'd concluded, would be a very rare compliment from John Casey.

Try as he might he couldn't take his eyes off of Sarah. Her fashion transformation had completely floored him. He was currently gazing at the silver heart shaped earrings she was wearing on her gorgeous ears.

"You like them?"

Chuck swallowed a bite of his burger with a gulp and blinked, "Huh? What?"

"The earrings, silly. Your sister got them for me."

"Oh, Yeah. Very much. They go with your belt buckle."

"That's what _I_ thought," said Ellie with a smirk.

"You really are a sight, Sarah," said Morgan dreamily. "Do you have a sister?"

"Hng, the lady feelings. You morons are an embarrassment."

"It was a valid question," retorted Morgan incredulously. "Do you have a mechanical heart?"

Casey made a growl that caused Morgan's eyes to shoot open wide.

"Touchy subject there, big guy?" Chuck immediately regretted saying it when he looked across the table at Sarah and their eyes locked.

"No, sorry, no sister, Morgan," said Sarah quietly.

"And that is a huge loss for me and the world," replied the bearded man.

"Thanks." Sarah cast him a warm but guarded smile. She looked back over at Chuck and caught him looking at her with an apologetic and adoring expression showing on his face and in his eyes. A small smile showed on her own face when he held her gaze. After a few seconds they both became cognizant that they were being watched.

"Well I've had about enough of this. I'm headed back to the motor coach." Casey rose from his seat and picked up his plate. "Thanks for dinner Eleanor."

"Please, call me Ellie, John."

Casey looked back at her and nodded stoically. "Ellie."

"You can go ahead and put that plate on the counter, Casey. I'll wash it," said Chuck, still trying to be a good host.

"Hnm." He walked out of the kitchen past them and raised a hand with his back to them as he made for the door, "Night."

There was a chorus of 'good nights', and they all watched as John Casey walked out the door without another word.

"He's an interesting man," Morgan deadpanned, "Haven't seen someone like him since the last time I watched Robocop."

"I kind of like him." All eyes in the room instantly, and incredulously, shot to Ellie. "C'mon. He seems like a nice enough guy," she said defensively.

"The man is certainly no Captain Awesome."

"Morgan, Ixnay on the Aptaincay Awesome-ay," said Chuck, with a warning tone.

"Are you kidding me, little brother, Pig Latin?" Ellie cleared her throat and rolled her eyes dramatically as she started to rise from her chair and pick up some plates from the table. "You know, **_Devon_** is waiting for me at home. I definitely need to get going. Sarah, it was a lot of fun today. Let's do that again sometime."

"I had fun too, Ellie. Thanks for helping me out." _But Chuck is going to freak when he gets the bill. _Just as soon as the guilty thought crossed her mind, she looked up and saw Chuck beaming at her like he had read her thoughts from across the table. This time his smile was so engaging she couldn't hold his gaze and her eyes shot to the side. "Here, Ellie, let me help you with those," she said, as she rose to pick up the remaining dishes.

The light banter continued for a few minutes until the dishes were put away and Ellie said her goodbyes and left with a hug for her brother and Sarah. Chuck was a bit relieved that Morgan didn't need a shove out the door tonight since he had walked up from the caretaker's house, and decided to hitch a ride back with Ellie.

Chuck and Sarah glanced curiously at each other, and then first at their clasped hands, followed by each other's waving hands, as they stood on the front porch watching Ellie's truck drive away. It was a strange new feeling for both of them; so… domestic. Their first night alone together in Casa Bartowski, and they were suddenly gazing at each other like a couple of awkward teenagers.

"Don't we need to put the Cub away, Chuck?"

"Already did it. Casey helped me shortly before you got back."

Sarah gripped his hand that she had holding tightly. "I've got to say, I was very surprised to see the way you two were getting along when we got back. I was worried about leaving you alone with him."

Chuck scratched his head with his free hand. "Common ground, I guess. We're both pilots and we both like shooting. We had something we could talk about. He had me check some files today too while you were gone. I flashed a few times, so we also ended up talking shop for a while… debriefing." He smiled, and rolled his eyes, "_That _is going to take some getting used to."

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked, her concern unmasked.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. It gave me a huge headache, and Casey wasn't particularly patient during the debrief, but I'm okay now." Chuck turned to her and gave her an appraising look in her western wear. "Wow, you look so amazing. I can't get over it."

"Thank you." Sarah smiled back at him demurely. "Shopping with your sister was an experience I won't soon forget."

"No doubt. Ellie puts the 'pow' in power shopper, so don't worry about the bill. Seeing you like that makes it all worth it." He flashed the Bartowski smile back at her and it made her pulse quicken as she smiled sheepishly at him, but Sarah reluctantly dropped his hand when her well practiced spy senses told her they were being watched.

"We should go inside," she whispered, glancing surreptitiously at the motor home, "Casey's watching us."

Chuck turned toward the door, waiting until he was facing away from the garage to answer her. "I was wondering about that."

They walked into the house and no sooner had they closed the door, when Sarah pressed a finger to Chuck's lips and held a finger to her own. She led him by the hand into the kitchen and turned on the faucet full blast. "Was Casey in the house alone at all today?" she whispered into his ear.

Sarah's breath in his ear caused his brain to seize up and it took him several seconds longer to answer than it should have. Chuck's eyes narrowed as he thought about it, and then shook his head.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her breath hot on his neck.

Chuck took a deep breath as he closed his eyes from the warm sensation and then responded in kind. "I'm certain," he whispered back, "I was with him the whole time," he said breathily, and Sarah's own breath hitched.

Sarah fixed a searching gaze on his eyes for a few seconds and then quickly reached over to shut the water off and pull him from the room with a firm grip on his wrist. She led him into his dark bedroom and let her gaze travel around the room pausing with her eyes on the windows and frowning. Then she suddenly smiled and almost bodily dragged him into the den/home theater room.

She turned on the wall sconces, adjusting the lighting down low, closed the doors behind them, and turned swiftly around to face him with a smile filled with mirth. "Did you and Casey come in here?"

"No, we never left the living area."

"Good. Thank God there are no windows in this room," she said with a soft giggle, and a conspiratorial look.

A huge smile slowly spread across Chuck's face and a short laugh rolled off his tongue. Sarah stood there, smiling at him, waiting for him to finish what he had started to do that afternoon before Ellie had interrupted him… well, them. She had been such a willing participant, but she wanted the initiation of this moment to once again be all his.

Sarah felt her breath hitch again as he stepped forward and spread one of his warm hands across the small of her back and held her other hand in a tight interwoven grip. As he gazed into her eyes, she could see him getting lost in them. That was exactly what she wanted, and she tried with all her might to pour all of her emotion into her own eyes, so he could see in them just how she felt, how it was all so very real. And as she did, she became lost in his. She molded her body into him, sensing the delicious contact from her knees up to her chest. Her eyes darted to his lips and it caused his to do the same, the simple change of attention drawing them together.

Chuck's hand released hers and came up to stroke her soft blonde hair, trailing down her neck as he glided his outstretched thumb along her jaw and caressed her neck below her ear with his fingertips. The sensation was electric. It danced between them like Saint Elmo's fire. Then Sarah Walker felt him give her a kiss that made her knees buckle and her toes curl in her new boots. She was completely drawn in as she returned the kiss with everything that she had. There was a sudden flurry of hands, as they explored every inch of each other and then started fumbling with each other's shirt buttons and belt buckles and pants buttons and…

All the while, their lips were locked in an open mouthed kiss as they slowly turned and danced across the room, finally falling together over the back of one of the large chair and a half's. They stretched out across the chair and ottoman, their legs tangled together over the soft cushions on the back of the chair.

"My boots… help me with my boots," she whispered, as she broke the kiss for a second, grinning up at him with her trembling hands framing his face. Chuck gave her another quick kiss, smiled back, and then jumped to his feet and pulled her new cowboy boots off one at a time. Then he paused, mesmerized, as he looked at her splayed out across the chair with her long slender legs over the back of it and her blond tresses fanned out across the edge of the ottoman.

"Well don't stop there, my pants," she said as she pulled the zipper down with the accompanying sound from which it had gotten its name. He grabbed her jeans at the bottoms behind her heels, and tugged them off as she arched her back and raised her bottom causing him to almost fall on his ass when they came free. "Oh, my, gosh!" he exclaimed when he looked down at her in her black lace boy shorts and legs that seemed to go forever, draped open over the low back of the chair. Her open shirt exposed her toned bare midriff and the matching black lace demi bra that she filled so well. "God, you're beautiful, Sarah, just breathtaking," he said with a sharp exhale.

She smiled up at him, admiring his bare and defined chest with dark curly hair spread across it and his swimmers physique with such a flat and toned stomach accentuated by a dark streak of soft brown hair that dove under his belt buckle. The sight had caught her off guard and it made her nibble on her lower lip. "You're pretty darn cute yourself," she whispered back, as she felt her own hand on her heaving chest. Sarah reached into her bra, and pulled a small black knife, with a wicked serrated blade from a holder in the lining along the shoulder strap and laid it on the coffee table with a wry grin.

Chuck eyes went wide as he stared at the blade, then he smiled broadly and started to pull his own boots off. It turned into a comical hopping dance, as he bounced around the room trying to get them off, and all the while Sarah giggling hysterically. His jeans were quickly gone in the final steps of his dance and he fell back into the chair. She reached for him and they coiled around each other kissing and nipping, on lips, chests, shoulders, necks, and ears before meeting again for another mind numbingly long and passionate kiss.

They came up for air and Chuck looked at her searchingly as he held her head in his hands, caressing her temples in soft circles with his thumbs. "This is happening _so_ fast, Sarah," he whispered, with confusion reigning in his voice, "are you sure this is what you want?"

Her eyes locked on his and she nodded her head emphatically. _Oh, Chuck,_ _I can't believe after all this you're still giving me an out. __Believe me; I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think it was. I don't make decisions like this lightly, and this goes against all my training. I'm not sure you have any idea of the war raging in me, or how badly I want this. It's not just about sex. Don't you see that? Can't you feel it? __**Why**__ can't I tell you this? You need to hear me say it! I am such a coward._

"Yes. Yes, I _want_ this. I want _you,_ Chuck," she answered with soft conviction as she held him tight against her with one hand and stroked his cheek with the back of fingertips of the other. _Oh, do I ever want you. Please don't back out on me now, Chuck Bartowski._

"Sarah, I don't want you to regret-"

She lifted her head and cut him off with a deep kiss as her hands started to roam over him. "_That _is _not _going to happen… to either of us," she said as she relaxed her head back with their lips barely touching, "and I'm going to prove it to you right now." She kissed him again, and raked the nails of one hand across his back while running the fingers of the other through his hair, and she knew as the kiss deepened and she put all of her soul into it, that there was no stopping, no going back for them. She could feel it in that moment - as he held her and kissed her in that heart stopping and amazing way she had never experienced before - that they were _both_ all in.

As they kissed their hands resumed their exploring, over, through, and under their undergarments. In minutes those too were gone, as they flew over the back of the chair. Chuck and Sarah were now completely unencumbered, skin seeking contact with skin wherever it could be found, and they were only barely getting started with each other. Because the night was still so very young.

* * *

**A/N **The Genie is now out of the bottle and I'm not even going to attempt to put her back in. (she looks so damn good in all that see-through pink).

You know, one of the fun things about ending a chapter like this, and in a place like this, is that you can carry it forward however and wherever your imagination desires. And then I get to start the next chapter with so many delicious possibilities that then let us compare notes about just where our imaginations traveled in between. Share your notes with me. :)


	8. It's Not Just a Job

**A/N **3/26/13** - **Another long wait has come to an end. My apologies, again, but I got myself so bogged down on my other story it was effecting everything else with a vengeance. Now that is working itself out too, so maybe I'll be able to get this ball rolling again.

We are finally back on the Farm. It's Monday, and time for crop duster Chuck to get to work in his Air Tractor. It's also Sarah and Casey's first day on their cover jobs. Will they make a good first impression? Let's find out. So without further ado, let's head out to the airport and spray some crops.

Thanks again to my ever faithful beta and good friend** somedeepmystery **for the much needed tough love with this. She's tops, and her editing skills are in great demand! Go over to her page and read one of her stories. You will not be disappointed.

**I don't own Chuck, but I'm having fun with it, and that's pay enough.**

* * *

**Sarah Versus the Farm**

**Chapter 8 - It's Not Just a Job**

Sarah awoke to a faint buzzing sound coming from somewhere on the floor. The sudden and startling reality of someone's arms around her, and the subtle, steady, sound of a heartbeat in her ear, caused her to instantly assess her surroundings as her awareness and training kicked into high gear. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized she was wrapped in the warmth of a blanket, burrowed into the side of a man, obviously a man, a very naked man. Chuck Bartowski.

It wasn't a dream. They had really done it. Wow, had they ever jumped into the deep end...several times last night. In fact, until they'd finally fallen asleep in each other's arms, they hadn't really stopped to so much as catch their breath. Sarah didn't think there was a piece of furniture in the room that didn't get used in some very provocative way, even the floor. She raised her head and looked around. Yes, even the coffee table, everything that was once on top of it was now scattered over the rug. She was never going to be able to look at this room the same way again.

They were in the chair and a half again, but the other one now, on the other side of the couch, with a pile of throw pillows beneath them. Sarah'd had some experiences with this sort of thing a few times in her life, but never, ever one of this magnitude; nothing remotely like this. She felt like she'd been melted in a crucible, poured into a new mold, and then forged into something new; something very shiny. Once, she'd decided to do this - they'd decided to do this - she didn't see how they could ever turn back. It was a life changing event. It had been that big for her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and took in the scent of him, wondering if it had been the same for him. Her memory of the night before was shouting a resounding yes.

Riding along in the turbulent undercurrent of her thoughts were the frightening concerns and deep turmoil about what she'd allowed herself to do. Never once in her entire career had she been so affected to even remotely consider the steps she'd taken with Chuck. It was completely out of her frame of experience to break with discipline like this. Depending on what Chuck's classification with the DNI ultimately turned out to be, it could mean that she had broken, or severely bent a written regulation or two, and smashed more than one unwritten rule as well.

If it wasn't for the fact that the man in her arm's status with the Agency was still very nebulous, and a strange inner calm that enveloped her when she was with him, she'd have probably been freaking out some right about now; probably even distancing herself from him. But the distress was still there, buried under the immense weight of a powerful emotion she'd never experienced before. She struggled with the idea that something so massive, could at the same time, make her feel so light. In spite of it all, she felt lighter than air.

"We have to get up, Sarah," Chuck groaned from beneath her, pulling her from her thoughts.

She looked up at Chuck's, weary, yet smiling face, and his placid brown eyes that were telling her a story so fantastic it was making her question reality. She watched awestruck when his pupils clearly dilated, as he looked at her in the dim light from the wall sconces, and wondered if her own eyes had done the same when she looked at him. "Am I awake? Is this real? This can't be real." she said, with mixture of wonder and disbelief. _I did this?_

He took her cheeks in his fingertips and kissed her, softly, and tenderly, but tentatively; like he couldn't believe it himself. "Does that feel real, like you're awake? Like we're awake?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure. That felt pretty dreamy," she said, her eyes still searching his, as a soft smile graced her face. "What time is it anyway? I feel like we only barely got to sleep."

"According to that buzzing sound from my phone it's 3:45," he said, stretching his free arm over his head and rolling his eyes at her when she winced.

"Oh geez," Sarah said, rubbing her palm over her face, "I'm not much of a morning person, Chuck, especially after only a couple of hours sleep...if we even got that much." Sarah had been trained at the Farm to cope with sleep deprivation, but that didn't mean she had to like it or seek it out.

"Well, you should have given your cover job more thought then, this is the way we roll around here this time of the year," he said with a chuckle, throwing off the blanket. "Besides, sleep is highly overrated, especially after a night like we had last nig-... Oh, my, God," he breathed, with a stunned expression, when he sat up and gazed down at the beautiful woman, covered with growing goosebumps on her arms and legs, from the late spring morning coolness of the room.

"You don't look half bad yourself, cowboy," she sang, with a soft melodious giggle, watching him transition through several shades of steadily deeper pink.

"Wow, now I'm the one wondering if I'm still asleep and this is all a dream." He abruptly pulled his eyes away from the sight and met her eyes. But his own eyes had a faraway look in them, almost like he didn't altogether believe what he was seeing.

Sarah quickly sat up, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, and locking him in a deep and passionate kiss. It had an instantaneous effect on both of them. There was no doubt at all they were now wide awake as their hands started to wander and caress each other's skin.

"Okay, that definitely wasn't a dream," said Chuck, a little breathlessly as he broke the kiss, "Sarah, as much as I'd like to stay here with you all morning, we can't. We have to get out to the airport. You heard Morgan say how much work came in over the weekend."

"Well, we can't exactly hang out in bed all day, anyway, Chuck; not with Casey around. We have to be very cautious about this. What we're doing is extremely dangerous." Sarah didn't want to say how worried she already was about what they'd done. If the Major had wanted to, he could have easily come into the house and checked on them, even in this windowless room.

"I understand," he said sheepishly, "I don't regret this, Sarah, not one damn bit."

She kissed him softly and hugged him tight, whispering into his ear, "I don't regret it either, Chuck. We'll figure out how to make this work. Even Beckman is already expecting us to be in a cover relationship. We just have to make sure they think it's only a cover and not real."

"Ha, piece of cake," Chuck deadpanned, snorting into her shoulder.

She pushed him back to look in his eyes, and grinned at him, "I'm a spy, Chuck, and almost your whole family were spies. We'll figure something out, okay?"

"Being a spy is not my schtick, Sarah," he replied with a one shoulder shrug and a small lop-sided smile.

"Being a spy is in your blood, Chuck. It may be time for you to embrace your legacy, whether you want to, or not."

Chuck's face fell gradually into a frown and he pushed off the chair to pick up his boxer shorts and began stumbling into them, while Sarah sat up in the chair on her knees watching him pensively. "God, I don't want that life, Sarah, I just don't. I wish none of this had ever happened. Dammit, Bryce, why did you do this to me?" he asked the ceiling. He looked back down and Sarah's face was crestfallen. He stepped quickly to her and took her face in his hands. "Oh, Sarah, I'm sorry. God, I wish we could have met any other way than this. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know you at all. I'm...I'm, not saying..."

"Chuck," she whispered, her face and voice filled with an emotion that frightened her, "It's okay. I know this wasn't what you wanted, but we probably wouldn't have met any other way. Chuck...about Bryce...there is something you need to know."

"What about that bastard?" he asked, pushing away, with eyes that were suddenly aflame.

"Chuck, c'mere," she whispered to him again, pulling him back in so she could get close to his ear, "Listen to me," she breathed so quietly it could barely be heard, "there's much more to Bryce and what happened to you than meets the eye. He left you a message, Chuck. I have it. I couldn't let the Agency see it, at least not now. I was going to tell you, but-"

"When?" he rasped back into her ear.

"Soon. I was going to tell you, soon. Things just kept getting in the way."

"No, when did he leave me the message?"

She pursed her lips and exhaled sharply through her nose, turning away from him, "When he sent you the Intersect. It was on the monitor when I found you here."

"Well, maybe that was a good thing," he said woodenly. "At least Morgan didn't see it when he came looking for me. Where is it now?" he asked, his body rigid, and his hand tense on the back of her neck.

"It's in a safe place. We need to find somewhere private so I can show it to you."

Chuck pushed away again. His hands fell to his sides and his chin fell as his eyes scrunched tightly shut. He stood there silently, as motionless as a statue.

"Chuck?" Sarah murmured hoarsely.

He snapped out of it and met her eyes with a penetrating stare. After a moment he broke eye contact. "I'm going to go put on a pot of coffee," he said abruptly, and strode to the door.

"Wait, don't open that, Chuck," Sarah said emphatically, her voice still low, as she scrambled to put on some clothes.

He froze with his hand on the door knob, watching her quickly don her panties, and throw her shirt on without a bra. Sarah gracefully gathered her remaining clothing and boots in one hand, and then she silently padded to the door and placed her other hand on top of his on the doorknob. "Let me make sure the coast is clear," she said, searching his eyes, "I was going to tell you. I _did_ tell you. I wasn't going to keep this from you, Chuck." She said it so quietly, when she swallowed, it sounded like a thunderclap.

Sarah gently pushed him back a half step, turned out the lights, and opened the door a crack to peer out. The house was still dark and silent. She moved stealthily into the hallway and stood there for a minute listening, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Then she snuck a peek around the corner of the doorway into the living room, turned back to Chuck, and nodded, before walking silently down the hallway to her room.

Sarah froze at her door when she felt his eyes upon her, and looked over her shoulder to see them shining at her in a sliver of cool moonlight coming through the window at the end of the hall behind her. A surge of relief flooded over her when a toothy and reassuring grin appeared in the darkness with those shining eyes, before it disappeared and his silhouette moved down the hall towards his room.

No sooner had she stepped into her room and started to close the door, than Chuck's voice boomed through the house with a deep throatiness she'd not yet heard. "Sarah, rise and shine! Time to get up! We're burning daylight, and we're already late!"

Sarah, clapped her hand over her mouth to squelch the laugh that tumbled out.

-II-

They hurried down the front steps to his truck in the driveway. Chuck was carrying his usual large Stanley thermos, and they each had a coffee cup in their hand. It was going to be another one of those caffeine fortified days. They exchanged a glance that said neither of them regretted it one little bit. "Casey's not here," observed Sarah, looking toward the big motorhome the Major was staying in, "See, his car is gone." The trailer behind the motor coach was empty and the black Crown Victoria that had been on it was nowhere in sight.

"Huh. Wonder where he got off to. Ya, think he's already out at the airport?"

"Could be," said Sarah thoughtfully, opening the passenger door on the Ford pickup. "Morgan said something about introducing him to Mac, last night. He could be anywhere, though." Sarah knew Casey was going to be overseeing the setup of surveillance at the airport and the ranch, but she wasn't prepared to drop that one on Chuck yet. She also knew she was going to have to locate all the cameras and microphones Casey was installing to insure her and Chuck's clandestine relationship wasn't discovered. Even with Beckman's allusions to a cover relationship their situation was incredibly fluid and complicated.

There was also any number of other tasks related to their new assignment that Casey could be working on. They had plans for the offices and other facilities at the airport depending on how the next several weeks went with Chuck, so Casey would likely be off doing things at all hours of the day and night for the next several weeks. Life on the farm was going to be anything but bucolic for the foreseeable future, but maybe she and Chuck could take advantage of that.

They were driving down the county road to the airport, and Chuck had just begun to discuss the work schedule for the day when, as if on cue, both of their phones started to vibrate in their pockets. They glanced at each other and reluctantly released their clasped hands to retrieve the devices. "Yeah, Morg," said Chuck as he answered, and fell silent to listen.

Sarah looked at her phone, seeing she had two text messages. The first was a secure message from Casey.

_**Briefing at 1400 local today at**_  
_**my coach. New info on your NSA**_  
_**boyfriend that may effect the **_  
_**asset. NSA analyst arriving at**_  
_**1500. **_

She suppressed a scowl at the way Casey was obviously trying to push her buttons. But the curious content of the message overrode her irritation with the Major. She wondered if he knew more than what she was reading here and decided to seek him out and ask him about it after they arrived at the airport.

The second message was from someone she had come to call her surrogate mother, Langston Graham's wife, Lillian. It had apparently come in when she was scrambling to get ready to leave the house with Chuck and she'd missed it.

_**I hear you have a new assignment**_  
_**stateside. Something new you've**_  
_**never done before. Call me, Hon. **_

_**Lilly**_

Sarah keyed out a quick reply, and closed her phone with a thin smile on her lips. It never took Lillian very long to figure out where she was, or what she was doing. The woman watched her like a hawk, and was always twisting her husband's arm for information about what she was up to. Even with the clearances her 'mom' had, Sarah doubted Lilly knew much about this assignment of hers yet. At this point in the chain of events, it was likely less than ten people knew all the details, including Chuck. Something new alright, she smiled, wondering what Lilly was going to think of her new cover job.

"That was Morgan," said Chuck, setting his fancy phone on the console, and breaking her from her reverie, "The work is starting to trickle in. Kyle and I each have about a half dozen loads this morning, then we'll each have another eight or so tonight after dark."

Sarah stared at him for a moment trying to decide if she'd heard him correctly. "What? You guys spray at night?" she asked incredulously.

Chuck glanced at her and chuckled at her shocked expression, "Yeah sometimes we have to do that. The job tonight is near an apiary - bees - so we need to do the work after our little buzzing friends have gone to bed for the night." He looked again at her briefly and grinned, "Don't worry, I don't have any intention of asking you to spray at night until you have a lot of experience at this."

"Oh." Sarah looked at him for the first time like he might actually have a screw loose. "And to think I was concerned about you air racing. Spraying at night doesn't sound very safe at all, Chuck."

"It's not as bad as it sounds," he said, looking again at her worried face, "We have some very powerful retractable lights mounted on the planes; they light up the field really well and they make the wires stand out like a neon sign. It takes a little getting used to, but it's not such a big deal."

"If you say so," said Sarah skeptically, "Can I watch?"

"I was actually going to ask you to spot for me. We like to have a field spotter during night work for safety, and so we can be sure there's no one in the field. People are hard to see in the dark, and some irrigators like to work at night when it's cool. Don't fret over it, Sarah, I've been doing this for a while. I think you'll feel better about it after watching us."

"Okay," was her drawn out one word response, the skepticism still apparent in her voice.

Chuck reached over and took her hand in his, "Don't sweat it, okay? It's just another day, or night, at the office. In the meantime, today, I'd like you to take the 402 out for a short flight, maybe watch Kyle and I work from the air for a bit, and then spend some time on the ground getting to know the crew. I also have some study material for you for your aerial applicator's license. Later, if there's time, we'll have you take Sierra Bravo out for another spin around patch."

"That sounds good," said Sarah with a nod. "Just a warning though, I have some Agency stuff to do too. That text message I got was from Casey. I'm supposed to meet him at his motorhome at 2:00 for a briefing, and the NSA analyst will be there at 3:00 to look at your computer."

"That's fine. Kyle and I should be done before noon. We'll be able to go home for a late lunch and I want to take a nap before going back to work this evening." Chuck scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not very excited about someone messing around with my computers. Can I be there for that?"

"I don't know. I don't see why not. He or she may have some questions for you about it anyway, so you should probably be there."

They turned through the airport entrance and drove onto the ramp to see a flurry of activity in the early morning twilight. Kyle Pruitt already had his airplane running and on the chemical loading pad near the end of the runway, the flashing wingtip strobes lighting up the ground around the big yellow aircraft. "I don't see Casey's Crown Vic anywhere," said Chuck curiously. "Not knowing where that guy is makes me nervous."

"You and me both," replied Sarah with an uneasy laugh.

Chuck parked his truck next to the office and as they stepped from the cab John Casey pulled up in his black Ford sedan next to them.

"At least you have good taste in vehicles," said the big NSA agent gruffly, nodding toward Chuck's Ford F-250, as he hauled his big frame from the car. "Give me a hand will you? I've got some coffee and donuts for the crew." Chuck and Sarah exchanged a brief look of completely suspended belief. "Hey, I'm the new guy around here, I know how to make a good first impression," Casey said, with an irritated smirk. He opened the back door and proceeded to lay trays of to-go coffee cups and large pink boxes on the roof of the car, then grabbed a tray and a box, and walked towards the large open door of the maintenance hangar.

They watched incredulously as Casey and Mac McConnelly talked exuberantly in front of the hangar and Mac helped set the food and coffee on the round table near the big open door.

"What is up with that?" asked Sarah, her voice dripping with disbelief.

"They've already met," said Morgan loudly, over the sound of the turbine engine running on the loading pad. Chuck and Sarah spun on their heels. The short, bearded man was standing on the office deck behind them with a stack of clipboards filled with loading sheets and maps in his hands. "Did you know Casey was a Marine?" Morgan asked looking at Chuck curiously. "Do you know how much trouble two Marine Corp mechanics are going to be around here?"

"Yeah, I knew he was a Marine," Chuck said cryptically, watching the two men chatting at the table. The Intersect had told him more about Casey than he wanted to know. "Didn't give much thought to the consequences of it though."

"Didn't think so," replied Morgan with a grin, "I hope we're all going to survive this."

"I never had a doubt that things were going to get more interesting around here," Chuck said absently, glancing at Sarah warily and picking up a tray of coffee cups. "Morg, tell Juan that Sarah's going to be taking on a hundred and fifty gallons of water when she gets to the pad. The plane behaves a little more predictably when there's something in the hopper," he said, looking at Sarah, and receiving a quiet nod back. Tell the gang to come over to the hangar for a cup of coffee and some donuts after Kyle heads out."

"Will do Chuck."

"Well, let's get this show started," Chuck said, hoisting the tray of coffee in front of him with the Bartowski eyebrow dance, "Breakfast is served."

After setting the remaining trays and boxes on the table, Chuck and Sarah walked over to the two mechanics who were reviewing some of the maintenance logs at Mac's desk in the back of the hangar, "I see introductions have been made and you guys are sorting everything out. You remember, Sarah, don't you, Mac?"

Mac McConnelly raised an eyebrow and broke into a broad smile, "You're freakin' kidding me, right? How could I possibly forget?" he asked, shaking his head, "Morgan tells me you've decided to join this crazy bunch. Welcome aboard Ms. Walker." He reached across the desk offering Sarah his hand.

"Thank you, Mac. I'm looking forward to working with you guys," she said, shaking his hand, coyly.

"Now, you just come to me or Casey here if you have any troubles with Sierra Bravo, okay?," I doubt she'll give you any problems though, she's a really great airplane."

"I'll do that, but I'll try to treat _him_ right, too."

"Heh,heh, this is going to take some getting used to," Mac said glancing at Chuck, "lady ag pilots are more rare than a blue moon."

"I'm sure you'll improvise, overcome, and adapt. Isn't that how the Marine saying goes?" quipped Chuck, shifting his gaze to Casey.

Casey grunted, steely eyes on Chuck. One corner of his mouth almost looked like it had turned up. Chuck wasn't sure what that particular grunt meant but the inflection didn't sound threatening like a couple previous ones he'd heard. He filed it away for later thought and cataloging. He had a feeling he was going to have to number all of them at some point.

At about that time they heard a turbine engine spool up and, looking out the hangar door, saw Kyle's Air tractor rolling down the runway. Not two seconds later the ground crew descended on the coffee and donuts like a pack of wolves on its prey.

"You know, I'm surprised that Big Mike hasn't already shown up to help lay waste to all those donuts. I swear, he can smell those things from a mile away," Mac said with a deep chuckle.

"Who's Big Mike?" asked Casey, curiously, "Another employee?"

"Oh God, no," replied Chuck with a rippling laugh, drawing a funny 'you had to be there' grin from Mac, "Mike is the county airport manager. To say he's an underachiever would be the understatement of the century. He thrives on avoiding work. He's a great guy, but he wouldn't last a day here."

"He does seem dedicated enough to working at giving you a hard time," said Mac, still showing that inside joke grin. "If it wasn't five in the morning, Mike would definitely be here."

"True that," said Chuck with an eye roll. He looked over at the small mob around the table, and then back to Casey and Sarah, "C'mon, let me introduce you to the ground crew, I think you'll like them."

"Teenagers," Casey said, dubiously.

"Not all of them, not that that should matter a lick, anyway," Chuck responded a little dismissively, drawing the Major's sharp eye, "I think you'll be surprised by them...just sayin'. Where were you at their age?"

Sarah looked over at Chuck, struck by a memory that hit her head on. She'd just been recruited by the CIA when she was the age of most of these teenagers.

Chuck grabbed a couple of cups of coffee and a cinnamon donut to split with Sarah, and then introduced Casey and her to the crew. One of the crew was a pretty, petite, and outgoing young lady, with strawberry blonde hair, named Abigale. Abby, as she liked to be called, seemed to be taking great delight in the idea of Sarah being a pilot, telling Sarah that she was learning to fly from one of Chuck's friends. She stated unequivocally that Sarah was her new role model, and that this was what she also wanted to do someday.

The whole crew was in awe of Sarah, and there were a few discreet looks at her in her ponytail, cowgirl attire, and Justin work boots. But she noticed all the boys were surprisingly well behaved for a bunch of hormonally challenged young men. None of them were even ogling her. That was something unexpected, and they all called her Ms. Walker and spoke respectfully to her. The son of the gentleman she'd met in the rose field, Juan, was extremely polite. He seemed to be making it his mission to be sure she was comfortable and that she knew he would be watching out for her until she was used to how their work here was conducted.

All of the crew was also sufficiently intimidated by John Casey, and that seemed to be just fine with the big NSA agent. The only one who wasn't buying into his hardcore display and countenance was Abby. She had almost immediately started to tease and needle him and wear him down. Chuck and Sarah kept glancing their way in amusement as the big man reeled under the fusillade of words from the young lady.

"This is a nice bunch of guys, Chuck, and Abby is sweet. She seems to keep all these boys in line, including Mac and Casey," Sarah commented as they stood off to the side, watching the young men and early twenties girl quickly dispatch two boxes of donuts.

"Yeah, they're all loyal almost to a fault, very reliable. I don't have to think or worry too much about what they're doing, and Morgan's management style seems to click well with them. Zero complaints. Performance bonuses always help morale too," he said with a wry smile. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled a military style flight helmet bag from the shelf. He looked at her appraisingly, "What size hat do you where?" he asked with a tight one sided grin.

"What?" Sarah asked, knitting her brow together and with narrowing eyes, "What kind of a question is that?"

Chuck unzipped the bag and pulled out a Gentex, double visor flight helmet with a very distinct, blue airbrushed paint job and snowflakes streaking over it. Sarah looked over at the Frost Queen parked only a few feet from them. The paint jobs matched. "You can borrow this until we get you one of your own. Try to ignore the name on the visor cover, okay?"

Sarah looked at the helmet and frowned, her eyebrows knitting together, "Chuck, if your crew starts to call me this there will be hell to pay," she said with a warning tone, after reading the airbrushed name 'Frost Queen' emblazoned across the helmet.

"They're your crew, too, but I'll have a chat with them if it makes you feel any better, and I don't want you flying that bird without a helmet. So what are you?" he said, studying her head, "Seven and a half?"

"Wow. Good eye. Close. Seven and a quarter."

"Big head for a girl," he said with a mischievous smile.

She frowned at him again, "I'm not sure how to take that."

"As a compliment. Lots of room for gray matter in there."

Her eyes lit up and that thin smile suddenly appeared, "Ha, okay. Nice save."

"I have my moments," he said, with a snerk and a wrinkled nose. "I'm a seven and a half, but you should be fine for now with an extra skull cap." He grinned again at the face she pulled as she looked at the helmet. "C'mon, I've got to get to work. Let's go get you started, alright?"

Sarah took the helmet from his hands and, pulling it on her head, looked at him with a smirk, "Fine, how do I look?" She looked over Chuck's shoulder to see Juan Tarrazas staring at her with a huge grin and she stifled a groan.

- III -

"So, there you go. Now you know the numbers and where everything is," said Chuck as they surveyed the cockpit and completed the ground check out. Sarah was sitting in the pilot's mesh cool seat as they reviewed the Air Tractor 402's controls and operation. "Now, let's go over the start routine. You've obviously flown turbines before, if you were going to fly a G-4, I assume you know the procedure?"

Sarah shot that smile at him that he was becoming used to seeing; closed mouthed, subtle, and slightly one sided; but one that radiated from her eyes like the sun. "Spin it, spark it, spray it," she said nonchalantly, reciting the turbine pilot's mantra for engine start, which described spinning the engine up to a specific speed, turning the igniters on, and then introducing fuel into the combustion chamber.

Chuck's smile grew bigger, "Yeah, that's how it works with the Pratt, but the Walter is automated. All you have to do is check the igniters, set the condition lever to ground idle, turn the boost pump on, and hit the starter when you see twenty pounds of pressure. The computer does everything else. You only have to make sure the Ng is at idle speed, watch for an ITT overtemp, and shut it down if it exceeds it, or if you don't get it to ignite. Fairly simple. Everything else is like the PT-6."

"Sounds easy enough," said Sarah as she scanned the switches and controls while he ran through the high points. She had the checklist on her kneeboard, following along, dropping her thumb down the list, and filling the gaps, as Chuck listed the major items.

"Alrighty then," Chuck said, doing his best Jim Carrey, Ace Ventura impression, "light her- or excuse me, _him, _up!"

Sarah grinned at him, then turned her attention back to the panel and ran through the procedure. They listened to the igniters pop, then she set the condition lever, turned the boost pump on, and toggled the start switch up when she saw twenty pounds of fuel pressure. They listened to the 750hp engine spin up with a whine as the propeller turned. Then the fuel ignited with a throaty tenor and a whoosh, as the engine started to pass massive amounts of heated air, and the instrument gauge needles moved smoothly into the green arcs.

Sarah flipped the switch from starter to generator and looked at Chuck with a satisfied smile. "Ah, that's a sweet sound," she said, with a raised voice above the whining din, gazing into Chuck's eyes, "I love the smell of jet fuel in the morning!"

"Oh God," Chuck said, loudly above the engine noise, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, "you are going to fit in just perfect here." He rubbed Sarah's arm affectionately and gave her hand a squeeze, "I'll talk to you on the radio."

Sarah gave him a nod and a wink as Chuck stepped down off the wing, and she watched him trot to his plane. After a few minutes of familiarizing herself some more with the cockpit layout, she looked up when her helmet earphones came to life and Chuck said, "You ready?"

She looked over at him next to her in his Air Tractor 502 and gave him a toothy smile with a thumbs up, "Ready as I'll ever be," she said, with giddy excitement.

"Okay. Line up behind me at the loading pad, I'll wait for you so you can follow me out to the field and watch for a while, then we'll have you spray out some of that water."

"Sounds good, boss," she replied cheerily.

"What a lovely voice," said, Kyle Pruitt, over the radio, "This is sure going to be a lot nicer than having to listen to Chuck yak incessantly all day long. Welcome to the Bartowski flying circus, Sarah. And don't call him boss, you're setting a very bad precedent."

"Good morning to you, too, Kyle," said Chuck laconically as he pushed the throttle forward and taxied the yellow plane from the tie down. Sarah taxied slowly out behind him feeling for the first time how the airplane handled on the ground.

"Good morning, Kyle," Sarah said with short laugh, "Thank you for the warm welcome."

"Mornin', Sarah. I'm almost full, Chuck," said Kyle, "Be off the pad in a minute, then it's all yours. I'm already three loads ahead of you. Need any help catching up?" he asked teasingly.

"Ha! No, I'll be fine. There'll probably be more for you to do when you're done with that job, anyway, so don't sweat it. We have plenty of work."

"Roger, dodger. Let the fun and games begin. If you want to see how it's done right, I'll be about three fields south of Chuck, Sarah."

"Very funny, smart-ass. I do _not _want her flying a field the way you do until she's got a couple thousand hours experience, you got that?"

"Yes, sir," Kyle said contritely, "I'll try to be on my best behavior this morning. No bad examples."

Sarah shook her head as she listened to the two friends banter, deciding it would be best to concentrate on what she was doing, and not participate in the ribbing. She watched as Kyle pulled away from the loading pad and rolled down the runway for takeoff after a short radio call. As she sat behind Chuck in the big yellow crop duster, the reality of the moment finally started to sink in completely. Never in her wildest imagination had she ever considered, in her career as a CIA officer, that she'd be doing something quite like this. This was without a doubt the strangest cover job she'd ever had. It easily eclipsed her six month stint as a Wienerlicious girl that one year in Germany when she and Carina Miller were doing surveillance on those Libyan Intelligence operatives who were posing as embassy diplomats.

While she waited for Chuck to load, Sarah toyed with the agricultural GPS unit on the panel, zooming the display to the polygon rendering of the alfalfa field Chuck would be spraying. It was a roughly square field 12.2 miles away on a heading of 223 degrees. Chuck had uploaded his job into her unit from his thumbdrive and given her a copy of the job sheet that included the location and a satellite image of the field. The technology they were using was impressive. Not only could it precisely navigate them to and from the job, and across the field, it could also control the rate that the products were being applied to the crop with very high accuracy. There was lot more to this job then she had initially thought.

"I'm good to go, Sarah" said Chuck over the radio, "I'll wait for you at the runup area."

"Roger, Chuck."

Sarah watched him pull over near the end of the runway and wave at her as she pulled her plane onto the loading pad. Abigale and one of the youngest boys jumped onto the wings and opened the fuel caps while Juan connected a fuel hose to a quick coupler on the side of the fuselage, and then stood back to watch everyone with an eagle eye. A fourth crewman, a young man not much younger than her, connected a two inch hose to another coupling on the side of the plane. He held up his index finger and then closed his hand, and opened it again, showing all his digits while looking her in the eye. She nodded back and he responded with a broad smile and a nod.

Sarah then watched as her windscreen was washed by Abby and her teammate. She could see Chuck watching her from the runup area, his face lit with a smile and the warm glow of the morning sun just beginning to peek over the hills. She couldn't help the big smile that grew on her face as she looked at him, causing Abby to look back and forth between them, and then look back a Sarah with a curious and funny grin. Sarah knew the girl hadn't missed a thing, and fought the flush as she cast the young woman a wry smile.

A subtle vibration and motion caught her attention and, looking through the window at the rear of the hopper, she could now see the water level rising as it was being pumped into the tank. It didn't take long at all for it to fill, and right about the time she was going to make a signal to the young man running the pump, it stopped right on the 150 gallon index line on the rear of the hopper in the cockpit. Apparently they could precisely meter the quantity from the pump. Abby gave Juan a signal while see peered into the fuel tank and replaced the fuel cap as soon as Juan removed the fuel hose. Sarah was impressed. The young crew had completed the task with military precision.

"Have fun, Ms. Walker!" exclaimed Abby as she jumped off the wing. Sarah beamed at her and gave the young woman a thumbs up before she raised her side door.

She advanced the prop from feather, and bumped the throttle, taking a deep breath, as the engine spooled up and the plane moved off the pad. She pulled up next to Chuck and he waved again, "Are you ready for this?" he asked, with just a hint of concern in his voice.

She did a quick control check, dropped a notch of flaps, checked the engine gauges, and looked around the airport traffic pattern. "I'm ready, Chuck," she said confidently.

"Well, ladies first. Unless you'd rather not have the additional pressure of having me watch your first takeoff."

"I thrive on pressure, Mr. Bartowski, I'll go first."

"Okay," he chuckled. "The runway is all yours, Ms. Walker. I'll form up with you after takeoff. You probably won't need much more than about 75% torque with only 150 gallons of water."

"Okay." Sarah taxied onto the runway threshold, felt a flutter in her stomach, and smoothly applied power with another deep breath. The swift acceleration surprised her as the powerful turbine engine pulled her down the runway. The tailwheel came up quickly and she hadn't rolled much over a thousand feet when the Air Tractor rose effortlessly into the air and started to climb out like it had a mind of its own. _That was a lot easier than I thought it would be, _she realized while she retracted the flaps and reset the propeller RPM and power.

Turning left to the south, she looked down off her left wingtip to see Chuck lifting off the runway after about a twenty-five hundred foot takeoff roll. He had an almost full load in the five-hundred gallon airplane he was flying, so he needed much more of the runway. "Power back a little so I can catch up," he said.

Sarah climbed to five hundred feet and pulled the throttle back, settling into a 130 mph cruise as she lined up the navigation line on her GPS display to take her to Chuck's field.

Momentarily, Chuck announced, "Coming up on your right wing," and she looked out to see him tucking into formation about thirty feet off her wingtip. "Hi there. You come here often, gorgeous? Would you care to dance?" he asked with a laugh.

She shook her head and a short giggle passed her lips, "This is probably the only place you'll ever get away with a pickup line like that and not get a drink thrown in your face, buster."

"Yeah, definitely not my best effort. So, how do you like..._him, _so far_?"_

"_He _flies nice. Very solid and stable. The controls are nice and light. I'm impressed."

"Excellent. I'm glad you like it...or _him_. Like Mac said, this is going to take some getting used to," Chuck said, humorously, "Why don't you take him up to a couple thousand feet and explore the flight envelope a bit, then come on down and watch Kyle and I work some. When I get this load off I'll have you make a couple of passes down the field I'm spraying, then I want you to go back to the airport and do a dump over the runway with what's left, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan, Chuck. I'll see you in a while." She watched him wave and turn away into a descent toward the fields below, and then applied power to climb the plane. When she reached altitude she began doing a series of steep turns and simulated ag turns, followed by some incipient stalls in various power configurations and bank angles. The plane felt solid and honest, especially lightly loaded as it currently was. Chuck had warned her that it would be much different with a full load, and it would require the use of flaps in turns when it was heavy, so she practiced cycling the electric flaps in a and out with each simulated turn to get used to the timing required to accomplish the task.

After a few minutes she checked her GPS display and descended down to the field where Chuck was working. She orbited overhead, and watched him as he smoothly rolled the airplane in and out of turns and dove into the field and climbed back out of it on each pass across it. He made it all look very effortless as the Air Tractor raced around and through the alfalfa field, almost always rolling onto the exact virtual line the GPS was telling him to intercept and follow. Looking about a mile south she saw Kyle making fast back to back turns as he worked another field with dizzying speed and aggressiveness. She could see why Chuck didn't want her going there just yet, as she watched his friend turn so quickly and so closely to the field.

Presently, she turned her attention back to Chuck as he turned back toward the crop from the racetrack pattern he was flying. She watched his spray sputter out about halfway across the field and he dropped a long tissue paper flag from his wing dispenser into the field to mark the spot, and pulled up with a puff of smoke from his smoker to check the wind direction across the alfalfa.

"Okay, Sarah, now it's your turn. Let's trade places. Lay an A-B line down the south edge and give me a couple of back-to-back passes. Keep it up a little high, maybe twenty to thirty feet to start. 65 to 70% torque should yield about 150mph on the pass with that load. There aren't any power lines except on the other end of the field so they won't be a factor. I'll be watching you," he added, dragging the words out with dramatic mock seriousness.

"Okay, here I go," she answered, dragging the words out, humorously mimicking him. She descended as she turned around the field to inspect it the way Chuck had taught her in the Cub, then turned off the pump fan brake and set the GPS for a left back-to-back pattern before making a gradual dive down onto the edge of the field. She had a real spray handle this time around, and she pushed it forward as she crossed the field boundary, then toggled her 'A' point with the button on the stick to mark the beginning of her line as she began to race across the field. Pulling the spray handle back and toggling her 'B' point at the other end of the field she marveled at how fast it had all happened; it was like time had compressed.

_Wow, what a rush!_ She advanced the line on her GPS and executed a fairly wide P-turn to give herself some room for error, rolling out, lined up close, but not quite right on her new line. A little maneuvering at the last second put her almost on it. In her effort to concentrate on finding the line she almost forgot the spray handle and pushed it abruptly forward, with a sudden exhale, as she entered the field. Her concentration slipped just a little from almost forgetting the money handle - as it was euphemistically called, because the only time a spray pilot made money was when it was actually forward. Due to the slight lapse, she found herself chasing the lightbar some, as she raced across the field trying to stay centered on the line. This was proving to be a bigger handful than she thought it would be.

"Your doin' good, Sarah," said Chuck, encouragingly into her earphones, "Give me two more passes."

Sarah was concentrating so hard she nodded instead of answering him and she bit her lower lip down on a laugh, as she was making her turn, when she realized what she had done. This pass and the next went much smoother, and she blew out a breath with relief as she pulled the spray valve closed and climbed out of the field. She looked up to see a couple of puffs of smoke and Chuck's plane circling above her. "Nice job, Sarah, we'll make a spray pilot out of you, yet," he said with laughter in his voice.

"Thanks, Chuck," she said, with barely perceptible tremor, "You were _not _kidding about how much faster this happens than it does in the Super Cub!"

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure of it. You did good."

"If you say so. I felt like I was hanging onto the tail of the plane, holding on for dear life!"

Chuck laughed, "You're not the first person to say that, and you surely won't be the last. Let's head back. When we get to the airport, dump the rest of the load along the side of the runway, to get a feel for what that's like, and then land behind me, okay? Oh, and don't forget the pump fan brake."

"Okay." Sarah reached down and toggled the fan brake. So many things to get used to doing, that if forgotten could damage equipment. She was struck by the sheer complexity of the job. Looking at her GPS display, she saw her four swaths painted across the representation of the field she'd sprayed. It looked pretty good, with no significant gaps or overlaps of the green stripes in the rendering. Perhaps she could get used to doing this.

When Sarah flew down the runway at the Wasco airport she shoved the dump handle forward with a thump. She didn't even notice the old pickup truck parked in the almond orchard near the end of the runway when the remaining water spilled out of the gate box, and she pushed the stick forward slightly to hold altitude. She was also too busy and focused on setting the plane up for landing, and watching Chuck land, to notice the truck then either. By the time she had finished her rollout at the end of a semi-acceptable three point landing she was experiencing sensory overload. Chuck had told her to put the plane away and mentally debrief, as he called it, while he went and finished his job.

Sarah shut the engine down after a couple of minutes of cool down and clambered out of the cockpit. Abigale drove up in a golf cart just as she was stepping off the wing and waved her over. "Chuck wants to talk to you before he heads back out," exclaimed the twenty year old girl with a grin, "How did you like it?" she asked as Sarah took a seat in the cart and Abby took her helmet, placing it in the bag in the back of the cart.

"It was _great! _I loved it. But my brain is a little fried right now, it was pretty overwhelming."

"I'm sure you'll get used to it," Abby said, exuberantly as she swung the cart around in a swift, tight turn, and sped down the ramp.

"I've been hearing that a lot today," replied Sarah with a broad grin.

"Aw, you'll do fine." Abigale gave her a sidelong glance. "I want my new role model to do well here. Don't you let me down, Sarah," she said with a wink.

"Don't you worry about that, Abby. I'm on a mission to excel. I won't let you down."

"Good. Here we are," the young woman said, as they pulled up to a skidding stop next to Chuck's plane that was idling on the loading pad, "I'll put your helmet away for you."

"Thank you, Abby." Sarah jumped off the cart and ran over to the big ag plane, climbing onto the wing. Chuck had been watching her from the cockpit the whole time with a huge smile on his face.

As she reached the cockpit door he surreptitiously took her hand and intertwined their fingers as he held their hands on his leg. "So what do you think? Is this something you still think you want to do?"

Sarah couldn't help herself. She reached up with her other hand and spread it across the back of his neck, leaning into the cockpit close to him. "That was some of the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on," she said into his ear, fingering the locks on the back of his head.

His grin broadened more and he turned to speak into her ear, "After what happened last night, I'll take that as a resounding yes."

They both just gazed into each other's eyes for a few seconds, and then Sarah simply nodded with a coy smile.

"You're ready to go, Chuck!" shouted Juan, over the sound of the idling turbine.

"Right!" Chuck looked quickly from the young man on the ground and back to Sarah. "You have some studying to do. I'll see you in a little while."

Sarah gave his hand a quick squeeze. "See ya later, Chuck. Stay safe!" Sarah watched him nod and pull his helmet back on as she jumped down from the wing. Then they exchanged a wave as he pulled the door up.

Across the airport hidden in the almond trees, a darker haired, blue eyed man sat in an old pickup truck, watching them intently through a pair of binoculars. He had a look of smug satisfaction displayed on his classically handsome features. _I guess I was right about them. I knew something would happen between those two, but already? Damn. And I can't believe they're still letting him do that job. Unbelievable._

* * *

**A/N - **I guess it's safe to call this a transitional chapter to our story. We had to have one like this that introduced Sarah and Casey to their new covers on the airport with Chuck, and to let us meet his crew. They're not as dysfunctional as the Buymoria gang, but you'll see they have their moments. Now that we're here and you've seen how the Bartowski Flying Circus works, let the espionage begin.

Thanks a bunch for all the favs, follows and reviews of this story. They have all been very gratifying and I appreciate it all very much.

I'll have an update for the Sarah Versus the Farm blog up in a day or so to explain a few of the ag flying things that were highlighted in this chapter, as well as few comments about why things are moving so rapidly for Chuck and Sarah. See my profile for the link.

Mac


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